"Monsieur Jackson is a good tenant," he said. "He pays well for any little services."
"How long has he been here?"
"He came just after war was declared."
"Has he taken his apartments for a long period?"
"He has taken them for a year, monsieur. I think he will take them permanently. I hope so, for he gives no trouble, and has never been out late once since he came here."
"I want to see him," Cuthbert said, "I believe he is an old acquaintance of mine."
"If you ring his bell he will open himself. He keeps an old woman as servant, but she has just gone out to do his shopping. He always take his meals at home. He is on the second floor—the door to the left."
Cuthbert went up and rang the bell. Cumming himself opened the door. He looked at his visitor inquiringly.
"You do not remember me, Mr. Cumming?" Cuthbert said, cheerfully. "I am not surprised, for I have but just recovered from a very serious wound. I will come in and sit down, if you don't mind; I want to have a chat with you. My name is Cuthbert Hartington!"
The man had given a violent start when his name was mentioned, and his face turned to an ashy pallor. He hesitated for a moment, and then, as Cuthbert entered, he closed the door behind him, and silently led the way into the sitting-room.