In the Hands of the Malays, and Other Stories

by G. A. Henty

"You have a room to let," he said. "Can I see it?"

"Certainly, sir;" and Roland followed the woman upstairs. "The room will do very nicely," he said. "I shall not be a troublesome lodger, for I am a great deal away, and shall only sleep here occasionally; but I like to have a place of my own instead of always putting up at an hotel."

"That is just the case with our lodger downstairs, sir. He does not often sleep here—not more than one night in the week. He travels, I believe, for some house of business; but, as he says, he likes to have a quiet place to come to when here."

"He is your only other lodger, I hope?" Roland said, "for above all things I like quietness."

"Yes, sir; we only let these rooms. He is quiet enough. When he comes here he generally comes in the afternoon, but goes out directly, and comes back again at seven to his dinner; and he always goes off at six o'clock in the morning. A quieter gentleman no one could wish to have for a lodger than Mr. Westerton."

Roland at once agreed to take the room, and, paying a deposit, said that he would come on the following day to take possession. "My name is Rowlands, but it is not likely that anyone will come to enquire for me."

Having watched Mr. Johnstone off by the first train in the morning, Roland went to his lodgings, where he soon became friendly with his landlady, who was quite ready to gossip. She was full of praise for her other lodger. "I expect he has got a good situation," she said. "Money don't seem of any consequence to him. He always has the best of everything that is in season, no matter what it costs, and he has got quite a cellar of wine, and always takes a bottle with his dinner. I am sure the room was furnished nice enough for anything when he came; but he had all the furniture turned out, and put in fresh himself, and a heap of money it must have cost him, I can tell you; fresh paper on the walls, and looking-glasses, and pictures. They are nice rooms, indeed they could not be nicer—except that the sitting-room is spoilt by a big ugly safe he has got, to keep his papers in. It just spoils the room, as I told him. But he don't seem to mind, so there ain't no reason why I should."

"I should like to see the rooms," Roland said. "Not that I can afford to furnish mine like them at present."

"I will show you them with pleasure, sir. Only, if you meets him and gets to know him afterwards, don't you let out that I showed you his rooms. He is a mighty perticular sort of gent, though he is so affable and pleasant."

The rooms were quietly and handsomely furnished, as Roland had expected. There was nothing whatever in them to give a clue to the identity of their owner. No letters or papers were lying about. Roland's attention was particularly drawn towards the safe. It was a strong, burglar-proof structure, by one of the best makers.