He would have run away but that Steel again had a hand on his collar.
"Alexander," cried his mother harshly, "what have you been doing?"
"Nothing very dreadful, ma'am," interposed Steel. "It will be all right.
Let me in, and I'll speak for my young friend."
"And who may you be, sir?" demanded Mrs. Benker, bristling.
"A personal friend of Mr. Asher's."
On hearing this dreaded name Mrs. Benker softened, and welcomed Steel into a neat parlor, where he seated himself in a horsehair mahogany chair of the most slippery description and related what had happened.
Alexander stood by and wept all the time. He wept more when his mother spoke.
"I expected it," she said in quiet despair; "that boy is the bane of my life.
I'll speak to you shortly, Alexander.
Go to your room and retire to bed."
"Oh, mother! mother!" cried Master Benker, writhing at the prospect of a thorough whipping.
"Go to your room, Alexander, and make ready," repeated the widow, with a glare, and the boy retired slowly, wriggling and snuffling.
When his sobs died away and an upstairs door was heard to close with a bang, Mrs. Benker addressed herself to Steel.
"I hope you will induce Mr. Asher to overlook this," she said, clasping a pair of lean, mittened hands; "I am so poor."
"I'll do my best," responded Steel; "that is, if you will give me some information about your late lodger, Mr. Wilson."
"Why should I do that?" asked Mrs. Benker suspiciously.
"Because Mr. Asher wishes to know all about him.
You see, your son allowed Mr. Wilson to serve this summons, and it is necessary that Mr. Asher should learn where he is."
"That's only fair; but I don't know.
Mr. Wilson has not returned here since he left on the day before New Year."
"Did he leave any luggage behind him?"
"No, sir, he didn't." Mrs. Benker paused, then continued, "I'll tell you exactly how it occurred, if Mr. Asher will make some allowance for the wickedness of that wretched boy of mine."
"I'll see what can be done, and use my influence with Mr. Asher."
"Thank you, sir," said the widow gratefully. "Well, sir, I was absent all the last day of the year, as I was seeing a married daughter of mine in Marylebone.
Mr. Wilson was in the house when I left at ten in the morning, but said nothing about going away.
When I returned at six in the evening I found that he was gone bag and baggage, and that he had left his rent on the table.
Also a note saying that he was suddenly called away and would not return."
"Have you the note?" asked Steel, thinking it just as well to have some specimen of Wilson's handwriting.
Mrs. Benker shook her head.
"I burnt it," she replied; "it was only written in pencil and not worth keeping.
I must say that Mr. Wilson always behaved like a gentleman, although I saw little of him.
He was queer in his habits."
"How do you mean—'queer'?"
"Well, sir, I hardly ever saw him in the daytime, and when I did he usually kept his blinds down in his room, as he suffered from weak eyes.
Even when he saw Alexander in the evening he would hardly have any light.
Then sometimes he would lie in bed all the day, and be out all the night.
At other times he would stay at home the whole of the twenty-four hours.
But he always paid his rent regularly, and gave little trouble over his food.
Yes," added Mrs. Benker, smoothing her apron, "Mr. Wilson was always a gentleman.
I will say that."
"Humph!" thought Steel, taking all this in eagerly.
"A queer kind of gentleman," he added aloud. "Did you know anything else about him, Mrs. Benker?"
"No, sir." She drew herself up primly. "I never pry—never."
"Did any one call to see Mr. Wilson?"
"No one.
All the time he was here not one person called."
"Did he receive any letters?"
"No. Not one letter arrived."
"Queer," murmured Steel. "What newspaper did he take?"