"It is either that or the pawnshop." The sub-editor nodded.
"Novels are all very well for amusement," he said, "but they don't bring in bread and cheese.

Come right up to me as soon as you've got something." Burton left his novel at the address which the sub-editor had given him, and went back to his lodgings.

He let himself in with a latchkey.

The caretaker of the floor bustled up to him as he turned towards the door of his room.
"Don't know that I've done right, sir," she remarked, doubtfully.
"There was a young person here, waiting about to see you, been waiting the best part of an hour.

I let her into your sitting-room." "Any name ?" Burton asked.
The caretaker looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling.
"Said she was your wife, sir.