[CHAPTER XXI.]
CHAMBERLAIN'S MYSTERIOUS FRIEND—A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.
"Of course, I'm making myself at home here," Chamberlain was saying. "Why shouldn't I, I'd like to know?"
"Well," returned another voice—Bissell's—"the fact is, when a gentleman goes out, he likes to feel that his private room is held sacred, even by his friends. I don't see what the landlord could have been thinking of to let you come up here."
"Why, he knew me—knew that whenever you were stopping here I had been in the habit of coming and going as I pleased; and so, when I told him I was tired and would like to come up here and rest while waiting for you, he made no objection. That's how it was."
"Well, I don't know that any great damage has been done this time, but I wish, Hen, as a general thing, you'd keep out of my room when I am not in it."
"Look here, Em Bissell, ain't you putting on more frills than your shirt front'll carry?"
"I fancy I know my business, sir. And now permit me to ask to what fortunate circumstance I am indebted for the pleasure of your company to-day?"
"Thunder! What's come over you, Em? Don't your food agree with you, man?"