"Here you are," said Arthur, determined to be beforehand with the stranger, whoever he might be."I'll take the bed." And he handed the five shillings to the landlord, who nodded, dropped the money carelessly into his waistcoat pocket, and lighted a candle.
"Come up and see the room," said the host of The Two Robins, leading the way to the staircase quite briskly, considering how fat he was.
They mounted to the second floor of the house.The landlord half opened a door fronting the landing, then stopped, and turned round to Arthur.
"It's a fair bargain, mind, on my side as well as on yours," he said."You give me five shillings, and I give you in return a clean, comfortable bed; and I warrant, beforehand, that you won't be interfered with, or annoyed in anyway, by the man who sleeps in the same room with you." Saying those words, he looked hard, for a moment, in young Holliday's face, and then led the way into the room.
It was larger and cleaner than Arthur had expected it would be.
The two beds stood parallel with each other, a space of about six feet intervening between them.They were both of the same medium size, and both had the same plain white curtains, made to draw, if necessary, all round them.
The occupied bed was the bed nearest the window.The curtains were all drawn round it except the half curtain at the bottom, on the side of the bed furthest from the window.Arthur saw the feet of the sleeping man raising the scanty clothes into a sharp little eminence, as if he was lying flat on his back.He took the candle, and advanced softly to draw the curtain--stopped half way, and listened for a moment--then turned to the landlord.
"He is a very quiet sleeper," said Arthur."Yes," said the landlord, "very quiet." Young Holliday advanced with the candle, and looked in at the man cautiously.
"How pale he is," said Arthur.
"Yes," returned the landlord, "pale enough, isn't he?"Arthur looked closer at the man.The bedclothes were drawn up to his chin, and they lay perfectly still over the region of his chest.Surprised and vaguely startled as he noticed this, Arthur stooped down closer over the stranger, looked at his ashy, parted lips, listened breathlessly for an instant, looked again at the strangely still face, and the motionless lips and chest, and turned round suddenly on the landlord with his own cheeks as pale for the moment as the hollow cheeks of the man on the bed.
"Come here," he whispered, under his breath."Come here, for God's sake! The man's not asleep--he is dead.""You have found that out sooner than I thought you would," said the landlord, composedly."Yes, he's dead, sure enough.He died at five o'clock to-day.""How did he die? Who is he?" asked Arthur, staggered for the moment by the audacious coolness of the answer.
"As to who is he," rejoined the landlord, "I know no more about him than you do.There are his books, and letters, and things all sealed up in that brown paper parcel for the coroner's inquest to open to-morrow or next day.He's been here a week, paying his way fairly enough, and stopping indoors, for the most part, as if he was ailing.My girl brought him up his tea at five to-day, and as he was pouring of it out, he fell down in a faint, or a fit, or a compound of both, for anything I know.We couldn't bring him to, and I said he was dead.And, the doctor couldn't bring him to, and the doctor said he was dead.And there he is.And the coroner's inquest's coming as soon as it can.And that's as much as I know about it."Arthur held the candle close to the man's lips.The flame still burned straight up as steadily as ever.There was a moment of silence, and the rain pattered drearily through it against the panes of the window.
"If you haven't got nothing more to say to me," continued the landlord, "I suppose I may go.You don't expect your five shillings back, do you? There's the bed I promised you, clean and comfortable.There's the man I warranted not to disturb you, quiet in this world forever.If you're frightened to stop alone with him, that's not my lookout.I've kept my part of the bargain, and I mean to keep the money.I'm not Yorkshire myself, young gentleman, but I've lived long enough in these parts to have my wits sharpened, and I shouldn't wonder if you found out the way to brighten up yours next time you come among us."With these words the landlord turned toward the door, and laughed to himself softly, in high satisfaction at his own sharpness.
Startled and shocked as he was, Arthur had by this time sufficiently recovered himself to feel indignant at the trick that had been played on him, and at the insolent manner in which the landlord exulted in it.
"Don't laugh," he said sharply, "till you are quite sure you have got the laugh against me.You shan't have the five shillings for nothing, my man.I'll keep the bed.""Will you?" said the landlord."Then I wish you a good night's rest." With that brief farewell he went out and shut the door after him.
A good night's rest! The words had hardly been spoken, the door had hardly been closed, before Arthur half repented the hasty words that had just escaped him.Though not naturally over-sensitive, and not wanting in courage of the moral as well as the physical sort, the presence of the dead man had an instantaneously chilling effect on his mind when he found himself alone in the room--alone, and bound by his own rash words to stay there till the next morning.An older man would have thought nothing of those words, and would have acted, without reference to them, as his calmer sense suggested.But Arthur was too young to treat the ridicule even of his inferiors with contempt--too young not to fear the momentary humiliation of falsifying his own foolish boast more than he feared the trial of watching out the long night in the same chamber with the dead.