As it happened, Chester was musing as he went down the steps.
"They treat me as if I were mad. Have I got some strange notion in my
head? No woman could possibly meet one with such a--Ah! good-day!" he
cried quickly, for, as he was passing the next door, the grey,
dreamy-looking old occupant was in the act of inserting the latch-key.
He turned slowly, pushed back his rather broad-brimmed hat, and blinked
at the speaker through his spectacles.
"I beg your pardon," he said, rather wonderingly; "I--can't see; yes, to
be sure, I remember now;" and the old man's face lit up. "I remember
now. My young friend who was making inquiries. Will you step in, sir?
I do not have many visitors."
He threw open the door and stood smiling holding it back, giving Chester
a smile of invitation which made him enter--that, in combination with
the sudden thought that he might perhaps learn something about the
next-door neighbours.
"Really," he said frankly, "as a perfect stranger, this is somewhat of
an intrusion."
"Not at all, my dear young friend, not at all. Glad to see you. I lead
such an old-world, lost kind of life. I am very glad to have a caller.
Come in, my dear young friend, come in. No, no; don't set your hat down
there; it will be covered with dust. Let me put it here. Now, then,
come in."
He led the way into the room on their left, and took a couple of very
old folios off a chair.
"A dusty place--a very dusty place; but I dare not trust servants. They
have no idea of the value of books, my dear sir. I found one had torn
out some pages from a very rare specimen of Wynkyn de Worde to burn
under some damp fire-wood. Can't trust them--can't trust them. I've
just had a very serious disappointment. Been down to an auction."
"Indeed?" said Chester, looking at the old man curiously and wondering
where he had seen a face something like his before.
"Yes. One of the big sales. There was a priceless copy of one of Marie
de Medici's books in the list, and I fancy it was with a Grolier
binding--just his style; but two other people wanted it. I bid up to
four hundred and then stopped. A bit of a bibliomaniac, my dear sir,
but not book-mad enough to go higher; couldn't afford it, even for a
unique, tall copy. Knocked down for se-ven hun-dred and forty-nine
pounds, sir. A fact. Well, did you find your friends whom you were
looking for?"
"Yes--no," said Chester.
"Dear me; but is not that rather contradictory, my dear sir?" said the
old man, smiling.
"Perhaps so, but there is a little mystery about the matter, sir,"
replied Chester. "By the way, though, can you tell me anything about
your next-door neighbours?"
"My next-door neighbours, my dear sir," said the old man, smiling and
rubbing his thin hands together softly; "well, not much, I am so
unsociable a body; and here in London one can be so isolated. Let me
see, he is something in the House of Commons--a clerk, or
master-at-arms, or usher, or something."
"Mr Clareborough is?" cried Chester, sharply.
"No--no! That is on the other side. Quite a large family party. Very
gay people who have plenty of fashionable callers, and carriages, and
parties. I fancy they go a great deal to operas and theatres. The
confectioner's people come sometimes, and musicians, and rout seats.
Not in my way, my young friend--not in my way," continued the old
gentleman in his quiet, amiable manner, as he took down the great bulky
London Directory. "Yes, yes, yes; here we are--Highcombe Street,
Clareborough. There's the name. Very wealthy, gay family, I believe.
Clareborough. That's it, and I think I've heard somehow--I don't quite
know how it was, unless one of the tradespeople told me--that they have
a fine place somewhere in Kent--The Towers, I think they call it, and
they are often down there, and this place is shut up. I like it to be,
because it is so much more quiet for a man busy with his books."
"Have you--have you noticed anything peculiar about the family?" said
Chester in a hesitating way.
The old man beamed upon him through his glasses, then took them off
deliberately, and wiped each carefully with an old silk handkerchief,
gazing at his questioner with his face wrinkled up as if he were
puzzled.
"Anything peculiar?" he said at last. "Well, no, I think not, unless it
is that they seem to spend a great deal of money in ephemeral pleasures.
Yes, I remember now thinking that they must waste a great deal, and
that with so much at their command they might accumulate a grand
collection of books."
"Anything more?" said Chester.
"N-no, my dear sir. I think, now you mention it, that I have taken more
notice of my neighbour on the other side. Yes, I am sure I have. I
remember thinking how bad it must be for his health."
"Indeed?" said Chester, inquiringly, but with the intention of leading
the old man back into talking about his other neighbours.
"Oh yes. You see, I often hear him coming home extremely late in the
night. Twelve, one, and two o'clock, sometimes even by broad daylight.
Not that I was watching him, but I often lie awake for hours, musing
about some particular book that I have not obtained. I'm afraid I shall
not sleep to-night for thinking of that book I missed at the sale
to-day. But I put it to you, my dear sir; it was too much to give, was
it not?"
"Certainly," said Chester, smiling, as he seized the opportunity to turn
back the conversation to the other side; "but I suppose, according to
your showing, the sum named would have been a trifle to your other
neighbours."
"Hah! Yes, I suppose it would--yes, I suppose it would. But are you a
collector?"
"I? Oh no," said Chester, smiling, "only a very ignorant body."
"No, no, no, no," said the old man, smiling pleasantly. "I know better
than that. One gets to know what a person is more or less by his
conversation, my dear sir, and I could vouch for it that you are a
student."
"Well, I must own to that, more or less, as to medicine and surgery."
"I thought so, I thought so," said the old man, bending down to clasp
his hands about one knee and sit as if thinking deeply over something,
while Chester gladly availed himself of the silence to give free rein to
his own thoughts.
For an idea had suddenly occurred to him which lit up his troubled brain
like a flash of light.
He was in the next house--the old man leading his solitary life seemed
pleased to have found someone ready to converse with him. Why should he
not try and cultivate the old fellow's acquaintance, and take advantage
of the opportunities it would afford him of watching his neighbours?
He had hardly thought this when the old man looked up, smiling at him in
a child-like, pleasant way.
"How strange--how very strange it all is, my dear sir. Now, you will
hardly credit me when I tell you that for some time past I have been
suffering from little symptoms which at their frequent and more frequent
recurrence suggest to me that I ought to consult a medical man."
"Indeed?" said Chester.
"Yes, my dear sir, indeed; but you see, I am a very old man now, and I
fear that I have grown weak and vacillating; I may add cowardly too. I
have shrunk from going to a doctor for fear that he should tell me that
I must give up my studies--that I am failing and coming very near to the
end of my span."
"Oh, surely not," said Chester. "You look a very healthy subject, sir."
"I--I don't know, my dear sir, but I have been afraid to go; and here,
all at once, in the most casual way, I suddenly make the acquaintance of
a medical man, and find him seated opposite to me, talking in a friendly
way which quite invites my confidence. It is strange, is it not?"
"Very strange, indeed," said Chester, gazing hard in the pleasant, bland
old countenance before him. "But really, my dear sir, I do not think
you require medical advice."