man of the world he laughingly declared himself to be.
At the end of a week, Annie and I were still as far as ever from being able to make out the profession of Mr. Twoshoes, though we considered the question in all its bearings, and gave due weight in our deliberations to the various vague hints thrown out at different times by our lodger. We concluded at last, in lack of all direct evidence, that whatever he might formerly have been, he could now be nothing more nor less than a gentleman living on his private means.
From the first day Mr. Twoshoes had bargained for the use of a latchkey, with free permission to come in and go out at whatever hours of the day and night he might think proper; and he was not long before he made frequent use of the privilege we had so readily conceded him. Not unfrequently he would leave the house at dusk, and not return till two or three o’clock next morning; at other times, he would set off early in the morning, and remain out the whole of the day. “When one of my whims lays hold of me,” he laughingly observed to my wife on one occasion, “and whispers to me that I had better take a ramble, then must I obey, and call Shanks’s mare into immediate requisition, whatever hour of the day or night it may be.”
I confess, however, that it gave me “a turn,” as my wife would say, when, on reaching home one evening, just after dusk, I encountered Mr. Twoshoes on the steps, as he was in the act of closing the door behind him, habited from head to foot in the garb of a groom. I could hardly believe in the reality of what I saw; but there he stood, benignantly smiling down upon me from the height of the steps, not disconcerted in the least, but calmly puffing away from the little black pipe between his lips. On his head he wore a Glengarry bonnet; round his neck a blue-and-white scarf, fastened with a horse-shoe pin; a waistcoat low down on the hips; a short cutaway coat, breeches and gaiters: decidedly “horsey.” All these particulars I could make out by the light of the opposite lamp. He remarked that one of his whims had overtaken him, bade me a cheerful good-night, and walked off at a leisurely pace down the street. It was three o’clock next morning before Mr. Twoshoes returned, and having let himself quietly in, stole upstairs to his bedroom so gently that he would hardly have disturbed a mouse.
But worse was to follow.
Mr. Twoshoes had been with us about a month, when I was one day sent to R, a neighbouring town about thirteen miles away, on business for the firm. There being no railway between the two towns, I had to hire a horse and gig. I had finished my business at R, and was setting out late in the afternoon on my return, when it began to rain heavily, for which reason I determined to take the shortest road home. The road in question was not a very pleasant one, running as it did through a wide tract of barren moorland, dreary and desolate in the extreme, with not more than half a dozen houses on it in a distance of as many miles. The weather, however, decided me to adopt this route; and I had got half way across the moor on my return when my horse, which was but a poor innkeeper’s hack, betrayed such unmistakable signs of distress, that I pulled up at a roadside inn, the only one within a distance of several miles, in order to have my horse baited before continuing my journey. While the ostler was busy outside, I entered the little taproom to obtain some refreshment for myself. On one side of the room sat two or three individuals in the dress of labouring men, while opposite to them, and quite alone, sat a man on whom the whole of my attention was immediately concentrated. If not Mr. Twoshoes himself, it was his living presentment! I started back in amazement, as though I had seen a ghost, when my eyes first fell on him; and the next moment was about to accost him familiarly, but some inward feeling made me hesitate just as the words were forming on my lips. The stranger, if stranger he were, gave me one long steady glance, and then resumed his perusal of a ragged country newspaper. Was I right or wrong in imagining that a faint gleam of surprise shot for a moment out of his eyes, to be immediately quenched in that dull, unrecognising stare? As far as dress went, he certainly bore no resemblance to Mr. Twoshoes, for he was habited in a suit of blue cloth with gilt buttons, after the fashion of a mate or captain in the merchant service. He sat in silence during the whole time I was there, neither speaking to, nor being addressed by, any of the company. To make his likeness to the genuine Mr. Twoshoes still more startling, he had the very same slight stoop forward with his head and shoulders, and the same intent look about his eyes—as though he were listening to some imaginary conversation—which I knew so well. In about ten minutes the ostler announced that my horse was ready. As I quitted the room I cast another long inquisitive glance at the seafaring man sitting so silent and grim; but he never looked up again, and I left him still intent over his newspaper. When I reached home I found that Mr. Twoshoes was out, and had been for several hours. At whatever hour he might return, I determined to be on the watch for him, and judge from his dress whether it was really he whom I had seen in the roadside inn. I sat up patiently till twelve o’clock, but as he had not then returned, I put out all the lights, and stationed myself in a bedroom upstairs; and after waiting there three more hours, my patience was rewarded by seeing Mr. Twoshoes come down the street. Thanks to a friendly lamp opposite, I had no difficulty in seeing how he was dressed. It was still raining a little; and the first thing I perceived was that he carried an umbrella; but when he put it down on nearing the door, all I could make out was that he wore his ordinary black hat, and a waterproof cape that reached nearly to his heels. He let himself in with his latchkey, and stole upstairs to bed in his usual stealthy manner.
These mysterious and suspicious proceedings on the part of our lodger naturally became a source of much disquiet both to Annie and myself; indeed my wife began to get quite nervous on the point, and to imagine all kinds of terrible and unlikely things as the results of our harbouring