“I’ll wait, thank you! Thank you very much!” he shouted; and jerking both bath and can into his fortress, he shut the door and prepared to wash and dress.

The whole process of his ablution and his dressing was now a mechanical accompaniment to absentminded fantastic thoughts on the subject of the dead Mr. Redfern.

“This was the fellow’s room, no doubt,” he said to himself. “I suppose he died here. A nice death, with those monstrous pictures lying like lead on his consciousness!”