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Updated: May 24, 2025
I am aware that my habits are somewhat peculiar." He looked at her fixedly, as if expecting her to give some sort of denial to this observation. But Mrs. Bunting was an honest and truthful woman. It never occurred to her to question his statement. Mr. Sleuth's habits were somewhat peculiar. Take that going out at night, or rather in the early morning, for instance? So she remained silent.
No one seeming to appreciate our sleuth's brilliant theory, he promptly left. Both Sir Donald and Esther regretted the notoriety likely to result from this affair, but none of its details were published.
Sleuth's landlady did not go down at once into her cold kitchen; instead, with a sudden furtive movement, she opened the door leading into her bedroom, and then, closing the door quietly, stepped back into the darkness, and stood motionless, listening.
She had not made him angry by that, that was it a hint she had meant to convey to him? "Very true, sir," she said respectfully. "But Providence means us to take care o' ourselves too." And then she closed the door behind her and went downstairs. But Mr. Sleuth's landlady did not go on, down to the kitchen.
Now had come her opportunity of giving the two rooms a good dusting; but Mrs. Bunting knew well, deep in her heart, that it was not so much the dusting of Mr. Sleuth's sitting-room she wanted to do as to engage in a vague search for she hardly knew for what. During the years she had been in service Mrs.
Bunting turned out the light and groped his way back to the room, and so to bed. Without speaking again to each other, both husband and wife lay awake till dawn. The next morning Mr. Sleuth's landlord awoke with a start; he felt curiously heavy about the limbs, and tired about the eyes. Drawing his watch from under his pillow, he saw that it was seven o'clock.
Glancing across, Bunting noticed that Mr. Sleuth's tall, thin figure was rather bowed, and that his head was bent toward the ground. His left arm was thrust into his long Inverness cape, and so was quite hidden, but the other side of the cape bulged out, as if the lodger were carrying a bag or parcel in the hand which hung down straight. Mr.
Something seemed to tell her that tonight the lodger had taken that bag out with him. And then she thrust away the thought of the bag almost violently from her mind, and went back to the more agreeable thought of Mr. Sleuth's income, and of how little trouble he gave.
Sleuth stayed on with them, as he showed every intention of doing, it meant respectability, and, above all, security. Mrs. Bunting thought of Mr. Sleuth's money. He never received a letter, and yet he must have some kind of income so much was clear. She supposed he went and drew his money, in sovereigns, out of a bank as he required it.
Sleuth's stay under her roof that she became aware that he had gone out at two in the morning and had only come in at five. But that there did come such a night is certain as certain as is the fact that her discovery coincided with various occurrences which were destined to remain retrospectively memorable.
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