"What about his meals?" asked Matherfield.
"He'd no meals here—unless he made himself a cup of coffee or so in a morning," said the caretaker. "All his meals out—breakfast, too. Sundays as well as weekdays. We saw very little of him."
"Who does up his rooms—makes the bed and so on?" inquired Matherfield.
"My wife," answered the caretaker. "She does all that."
"And she hasn't had anything to do for—how long?"
"Well, it'll be three weeks, I'm sure. He never used to say anything at any time when he went off—just went. He'd call downstairs when he came back and let us know he was back, d'ye see? But we never thought he'd be as long away as this, this time. It was only this morning, just before you came, that my missus said to me that it seemed queer."
"Why queer?"
"Because he's taken nothing with him. However short a time he might be away before, he always took a suit-case, clean linen, shaving things, so on—he was a very particular gentleman about his appearance—always dressed like a swell and had a clean shirt every day; used to have a nice heavy washing-bill, anyhow!"
"Did he seem to be pretty well supplied with money?" asked Matherfield. "Or—the opposite?"
"Couldn't rightly say," replied the caretaker. "Always paid his rent, and us, and the washing regular, but as for anything else, why, we'd no means of knowing. Of course, as I tell you, he always looked the gentleman."