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           Andthen,whenhehadheardthelandlordout, ‘Itcannotbe,itcannotbe,’headded;‘andyetIwouldlikewelltoseehimfacetoface.’ 

           ‘Doyouknowhim,Doctor?’askedtheundertaker,withagasp. 

           ‘Godforbid!’wasthereply.‘Andyetthenameisastrangeone; itweretoomuchtofancytwo. Tellme,landlord,isheold?’ 

           ‘Well,’saidthehost,‘he’snotayoungman,tobesure,andhishairiswhite;buthelooksyoungerthanyou.’ 

           ‘Heisolder,though;yearsolder. But,’withaslapuponthetable,‘it’stherumyouseeinmyface—rumandsin. Thisman,perhaps,mayhaveaneasyconscienceandagooddigestion. Conscience! Hearmespeak. YouwouldthinkIwassomegood,old,decentChristian,wouldyounot? Butno,notI; Inevercanted. Voltairemighthavecantedifhe’dstoodinmyshoes; butthebrains’—witharattlingfilliponhisbaldhead—‘thebrainswereclearandactive,andIsawandmadenodeductions.’ 

           ‘Ifyouknowthisdoctor,’Iventuredtoremark,afterasomewhatawfulpause,‘Ishouldgatherthatyoudonotsharethelandlord’sgoodopinion.’ 

           Fettespaidnoregardtome. 

           ‘Yes,’hesaid,withsuddendecision,‘Imustseehimfacetoface.’ 

           Therewasanotherpause,andthenadoorwasclosedrathersharplyonthefirstfloor,andastepwashearduponthestair.