“Perhaps. I don’t know. He is a man who goes in and out as silently as a cat.”
“But he used to come in and see you often?”
Stratton coughed to clear a huskiness from his throat.
“Yes; but he has not been to see me lately,” he said hurriedly. “I am going home now.”
“This is home, man.”
Stratton suppressed a shudder, and Guest pitied him as he thought of two attempts made upon his life.
“It is too gloomy—too depressing for me.”
“Give up the chambers, then, and take some more pleasant ones.”
“No, no; I should not care about the trouble of moving. I am used to them, too.”
He laid his hand upon the lamp, and Guest was obliged to take the hint and rise to go.