Light began to dawn upon me. "So you encouraged him to take that tear last night?"
"Surest thing you know. I thought it would be well to get it out of his system at the start. It has been some time since he has seen that much money. He didn't get you stewed, did he, Ted?"
"No," I said shortly. Knowlton grinned.
"You sound like a hang over, but perhaps it's only your moral sense, Teddy."
"The point is, have I got to have a drug fiend as a roommate?"
"I'm afraid so, Teddy. We must keep as much of an eye on him as possible. He believes you innocent and guileless; and he'll talk more freely to you than to me."
"Talk freely! Great heavens! I should think he did! That's one of the things I complain of. Perhaps you think it amusing to listen to a crazy man talk about himself night and day."
Upon my return to my quarters I found Prospero, in velvet jacket, cap, and slippers, smoking a peculiar pipe of a great size. It was his instinct to wear a suitable costume for everything he did, even for pipe smoking. An old cash ledger lay open before him, and in this he was writing with—trust Prospero for a dramatic effect—a quill pen! He frowned at me as I entered and growled "Silence!" Somewhat bored and more irritated, I lit a candle which I had bought for sealing documents, set it down on the table by his book, and put out the desk light. "I'll make his damned scene complete," I thought.
"I thank you, Edward," he boomed at me. "Candle-light is less fatiguing to the eye. You are very thoughtful." He scratched abominably with his quill, which I suspected he did not know how to use. I endeavoured to read and watch his melodrama at the same time.
"Edward, do you know what I am writing?"