Placing his hand on the older man's shoulder, he answered meaningly, "I had planned that _we_ would move in the morning." At the other's puzzled expression he laughed again.
"We ?" said the novelist, facing his friend, quickly.
"Come here," returned the other.

"I must show you something you haven't seen." He led the way to a room that they had decided he would not need, and the door of which was locked.

Taking a key from his pocket, he handed it to his friend.
"What's this ?" said the older man, looking foolishly at the key in his hand.
"It's the key to that door," returned the other, with a gleeful chuckle.
Then--"Unlock it." "Unlock it ?" "Sure--that's what I gave you the key for." Conrad Lagrange obeyed.

Through the open door, he saw, not the bare and empty room he supposed was there, but a bedroom--charmingly furnished, complete in every detail.

Turning, he faced his companion silently, inquiringly--with a look that Aaron King had never before seen in those strange, baffling eyes.
"It's yours"-- said the artist, hastily--"if you care to come.