“I hope it will do, sir.”
“Admirably,” replied Carrados. “But I haven’t reached the end of my requirements yet, Miss Chubb.”
“No, sir?” said the landlady, feeling that it would be a pleasure to oblige so agreeable a gentleman, “what else might there be?”
“Although I can see very little I like to have a light, but not any kind of light. Gas I cannot do with. Do you think that you would be able to find me an oil lamp?”
“Certainly, sir. I got out a very nice brass lamp that I have specially for Mr Ghoosh. He read a good deal of an evening and he preferred a lamp.”
“That is very convenient. I suppose it is large enough to burn for a whole evening?”
“Yes, indeed. And very particular he was always to have it filled every day.”
“A lamp without oil is not very useful,” smiled Carrados, following her towards another room, and absentmindedly slipping the foot-rule into his pocket.
Whatever Parkinson thought of the arrangement of going into second-rate apartments in an obscure street it is to be inferred that his devotion to his master was sufficient to overcome his private emotions as a self-respecting “man.” At all events, as they were approaching the station he asked, and without a trace of feeling, whether there were any orders for him with reference to the proposed migration.
“None, Parkinson,” replied his master. “We must be satisfied with our present quarters.”