"Did he leave any luggage behind him?"
"No, sir, he didn't." Mrs. Benker paused, then continued, "I'll tell you exactly how it occurred, if Mr. Asher will make some allowance for the wickedness of that wretched boy of mine."
"I'll see what can be done, and use my influence with Mr. Asher."
"Thank you, sir," said the widow gratefully. "Well, sir, I was absent all the last day of the year, as I was seeing a married daughter of mine in Marylebone. Mr. Wilson was in the house when I left at ten in the morning, but said nothing about going away. When I returned at six in the evening I found that he was gone bag and baggage, and that he had left his rent on the table. Also a note saying that he was suddenly called away and would not return."
"Have you the note?" asked Steel, thinking it just as well to have some specimen of Wilson's handwriting.
Mrs. Benker shook her head. "I burnt it," she replied; "it was only written in pencil and not worth keeping. I must say that Mr. Wilson always behaved like a gentleman, although I saw little of him. He was queer in his habits."
"How do you mean—'queer'?"
"Well, sir, I hardly ever saw him in the daytime, and when I did he usually kept his blinds down in his room, as he suffered from weak eyes. Even when he saw Alexander in the evening he would hardly have any light. Then sometimes he would lie in bed all the day, and be out all the night. At other times he would stay at home the whole of the twenty-four hours. But he always paid his rent regularly, and gave little trouble over his food. Yes," added Mrs. Benker, smoothing her apron, "Mr. Wilson was always a gentleman. I will say that."
"Humph!" thought Steel, taking all this in eagerly. "A queer kind of gentleman," he added aloud. "Did you know anything else about him, Mrs. Benker?"
"No, sir." She drew herself up primly. "I never pry—never."