the night, poor chap, and no money, so I told him that if he waited on
your doorstep some time after midnight you would be certain to give him a
night's lodgings when you returned. Did I do right?" and the doctor's
kindly face beamed with the look of a man who expected approbation.

"Ye--es," I gasped out, somewhat taken aback, "quite right, of course;"
for I felt that any hesitation would be feeble, a mere relic of bourgeois
prejudice.

And, sure enough, on reaching my domicile, I found installed on the
doorstep a most uncouth and villainous-looking tramp. Taciturn he
certainly was, for he scarcely opened his mouth to say "Good-evening," and
indeed during the three days of his residence with me he hardly ever
articulated a sound. As I was getting out my latch-key the local policeman
chanced to pass: "That fellow has been hanging about for the last hours,
miss," he said to me. "Shall I remove him for you?"

"Certainly not," I replied firmly, and opening the door, I requested my
unknown comrade to enter. I can still see in my mind's eye that
constable's face. It looked unutterable things.

After conducting the tramp to the pantry, and letting him loose on a cold
pigeon-pie and other viands, and finally installing him on the study sofa,
I retired to my own apartment, well prepared to enjoy a good night's rest.

This was destined, however, to be of short duration. Towards 6.30 I was
roused from sleep by a loud rat-tat at the front door and, the servants
not being up at such an hour, and suspecting that this early visit was in
some way connected with the Anarchists, I hastily slipped on a wrapper and
ran downstairs.