Mr.Sleuth, as she well knew, had been up a long time last night, or rather this morning.
****** Suddenly, the drawing-room bell rang.

But Mr.Sleuth's landlady did not go up, as she generally did, before getting ready the simple meal which was the lodger's luncheon and breakfast combined.

Instead, she went downstairs again and hurriedly prepared the lodger's food.
Then, very slowly, with her heart beating queerly, she walked up, and just outside the sitting-room--for she felt sure that Mr.Sleuth had got up, that he was there already, waiting for her--she rested the tray on the top of the banisters and listened.

For a few moments she heard nothing; then through the door came the high, quavering voice with which she had become so familiar: "'She saith to him, stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.

But he knoweth not that the dead are there, and that her guests are in the depths of hell.'" There was a long pause.