It was seldom that lights were seen to gleam from the windows of the house. Still more uncommon was it to find visitors assembled there. The old man had a place of business in the town, and anyone wishing to see him might find him there. He discouraged visitors, for visitors suggested hospitality, and hospitality represented the expenditure of money, the one and only thing that the old man valued.
Lights were, however, twinkling from Ebenezer Brown's dining room out into the night a few evenings subsequently to Desmond O'Connor's visit to Grey Town. A meagre attempt at hospitality had been made for the visitors, a scanty supply of water biscuits, a few apples of an antique appearance, with a bottle of limejuice and water. But not one of the guests was sufficiently hungry or thirsty to taste of the good things provided for them.
They sat around the large, bare table, Ebenezer Brown and his three guests, Garnett, Gifford and Gerard—the three G's, as Denis Quirk had nicknamed them. Ebenezer Brown half leaned on the table, his face peculiarly white and eyes very bright in the light of an incandescent gas burner.
"Every man has a past, if you can unearth it. The greater the saint, the worse his past. Eh, Garnett?" he asked.
It was noticeable that Garnett refrained from any direct answer; possibly even he had had a past.
"That play," continued Ebenezer. "What did you call it?" he asked Gerard.
"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."
Ebenezer Brown's hearing was exceptionally acute to-night.
"That's the one!" he cried; "and it's true to nature. There's good in a few and bad in all. Eh, Gifford?"
"Unhappily there is," sighed Gifford.