“Hullo, Burton!” he exclaimed, coming to a standstill and taking the pipe from his mouth.

“How do you do, sir?” Burton replied, civilly.

Getting on all right, eh?

“Very nicely indeed, thank you, sir.”

Mr. Waddington grunted.

“Hm!  You don’t look like it!  Got a job yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Then how the devil can you be getting on at all?” Mr. Waddington inquired.

Burton smiled quite pleasantly.

“It does seem queer, sir,” he admitted.  “I said that I was getting on all right because I am contented and happy.  That is the chief thing after all, isn’t it?”

Mr. Waddington opened his mouth and closed it again.

“I wish I could make out what the devil it was that happened to you,” he said.  “Why, you used to be as smart as they make ’em, a regular nipper after business.  I expected you’d be after me for a partnership before long, and I expect I’d have had to give it you.  And then you went clean dotty.  I shall never forget that day at the sale, when you began telling people everything it wasn’t good for them to know.”

“You mean that it wasn’t good for us for them to know,” Burton corrected gently.

Mr. Waddington laughed.  He had a large amount of easy good-humor and he was always ready to laugh.

“You haven’t lost your wits, I see,” he declared.  “What was it?  Did you by any chance get religion, Burton?”

The young man shook his head.

“Not particularly, sir,” he replied.  “By the bye, you owe me four days’ money.  Would it be quite convenient—?”

“You shall have it,” Mr. Waddington declared, thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket.  “I can’t afford it, for things are going badly with me.  Here it is, though.  Thirty-four shillings—­that’s near enough.  Anything else?”

“There is one other thing,” Burton said slowly.  “It is rather a coincidence, sir, that we should have met just here.  I see that you have been into Idlemay House.  I wonder whether you would lend me the keys?  I will return them to the office, with pleasure, but I should very much like to go in myself for a few minutes.”

Mr. Waddington stared at his late employee, thoroughly puzzled.

“If you aren’t a caution!” he exclaimed.  “What the mischief do you want to go in there for?”

Burton smiled.

“I should like to see if that little room where the old Egyptian died has been disturbed since I was there, sir.”

Mr. Waddington hesitated.  Then he turned and led the way.

“I’d forgotten all about that,” he said.  “Come along, I’ll go in with you.”

They crossed the road, ascended the steps, and in a few minutes they were inside the house.  The place smelt very musty and uninhabited.  Burton delicately avoided the subject of its being still unlet.  The little chamber on the right of the hall was as dark as ever.  Burton felt his heart beat quickly as a little waft of familiar perfume swept out to him at the opening of the door.  Mr. Waddington struck a match and held it over his head.