“Poor devil!” he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my misfortunes.

“What are you up to now?”

 

“Looking for lodgings,” I answered. “Trying to solve the problem as to whether

it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price.”

 

“That’s a strange thing,” remarked my companion; “you are the second man to-day

that has used that expression to me.”

 

“And who was the first?” I asked.

 

“A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital.

 

He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go

halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much

for his purse.”

 

“By Jove!” I cried, “if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the

expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being

alone.”

 

Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wine-glass. “You don’t

know Sherlock Holmes yet,” he said; “perhaps you would not care for him as a

constant companion.”