hot water, sir--yes, sir."

She closed the door after her, and Nestley, sitting down on the bed, gnawed his moustache savagely.

"Under the same roof," he growled viciously. "I don't know if I'm wise--pshaw, it doesn't matter, he won't do me any more harm, I've got no money, and Beaumont doesn't care about doing anything for nothing--my poverty is my best shield against him."

At this moment Margaret knocked at the door and handed in his hot water, so he postponed his ideas on the subject of Mr. Beaumont while he made himself respectable. Having washed the dust of the road from his face and hands, he brushed his clothes, arranged his hair, and then descended to the parlour of the inn, where he found a plentifully-spread supper-table awaiting him and Margery lighting the lamp.

The parlour was a quaint, low-ceilinged room, all angles, with queer cupboards and unnecessary alcoves in unexpected places, heavy, black oak furniture, baskets of wax fruits and paper flowers, a small harmonium in one corner and a general air of intense cleanliness and comfort. Dismissing Margery, Dr. Nestley made an excellent supper from a round of corned beef, but pushing away the tankard of ale which stood near him, he filled a glass with water and drank it off. His meal being ended he lighted his pipe, and drawing his chair up to the fire, with a sigh of gratitude, gave himself up to his reflections.

The lamp shone with a dim, yellow light, but the ruddy glare of the fire lighted up the room and gleamed on the polished furniture and plaster ceiling. Truly a pleasant place to dream in, but judging by the frown upon Nestley's face his thoughts were anything but agreeable, for as a matter of fact he was thinking about Basil Beaumont. Whether a sympathetic feeling or a vein of animal magnetism drew the subject of his reflections towards him it is hard to say, but in a very short time the door was pushed silently open and Mr. Beaumont, cool and complacent, sauntered into the room.

This unwelcomed intruder walked across to the fireplace and, leaning against the mantelpiece, looked down at the indignant Nestley with a bland smile.

"Enjoyed your supper?" he asked coolly, removing his cigarette.

"None the better for seeing you," growled the doctor, drawing hard at his pipe.

"Our excellent Duncan," observed Mr. Beaumont, airily, "is rather cross."

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