“On—­on mine?” asks Ham, his mouth open.

Nivens nods.

“I’m rather familiar with it, you see,” says he.  “Of course, I may not fill it just as you did, but that would hardly be expected.  I can try.  That is why I have been staying on.  I’ve taken over the lease.  The agent has stopped bothering you, perhaps you have noticed.  And I’ve made out a complete inventory of the furnishings.  In case I take them over, I’ll pay you a fair price—­ten per cent. more than any dealer.”

“Do—­do you mean to say,” demands Adams, “that you are paying my rent?”

“Excuse me, mine,” says Nivens.  “The lease has stood in my name for the last two months.  I didn’t care to hurry you, sir; I wanted to give you every chance.  But now, if you are quite at the end, I am ready to propose the change.”

“Go on,” says Ham, starin’ at him.  “What change?”

“My place for yours,” says Nivens.

“Eh?” gasps Ham.

“That is, of course, if you’ve nothing better to do, sir,” says Nivens, quiet and soothin’.  “You’d soon pick it up, sir, my tastes being quite similar.  For instance—­the bath ready at nine; fruit, coffee, toast, and eggs at nine-fifteen, with the morning papers and the mail laid out.  Then at—­”

“See here, my man,” breaks in Adams, breathin’ hard.  “Are you crazy, or am I?  Are you seriously suggesting that I become your valet?”

Nivens shrugs his shoulders.

“It occurred to me you’d find that the easiest way of settling your account with me, sir,” says he.  “Then, too, you could stay on here, almost as though nothing had happened.  Quite likely I should go out a bit more than you do, sir.  Well, here you’d be:  your easy chair, your pictures, your favorite brands of cigars and Scotch.  Oh, I assure you, you’ll find me quite as gentlemanly about not locking them up as you have been, sir.  I should make a few changes, of course; nothing radical, however.  And, really, that little back room of mine is very cozy.  What would come hardest for you, I suppose, would be the getting up at seven-thirty; but with a good alarm clock, sir, you—­”

“Stop!” says Ham.  “This—­this is absurd.  My head’s swimming from it.  And yet—­ Well, what if I refuse?”

Nivens lifts his black eyebrows significant.

“I should hope I would not be forced to bring proceedings, sir,” says he.  “Under the Wage Act, you know—­”

“Yes, yes,” groans Ham, slumpin’ into a chair and restin’ his chin on his hands.  “I know.  You could send me to jail.  I should have thought of that.  But I—­I didn’t know how to get along alone.  I’ve never had to, you know, and—­”

“Precisely, sir,” says Nivens.  “And allow me to suggest that another employer might not have the patience to show you your duties.  But I shall be getting used to things myself, you know, and I sha’n’t mind telling you.  If you say so, sir, we’ll begin at once.”