Rowton turned to his left as he spoke; Samson led the horse away to the stables which stood to the right of the Bungalow. Rowton entered the lowly built house under a heavy porch. A paraffin lamp was burning in the hall; he took it up and entered a sort of general sitting-room. It was long and low; there were three windows occupying the greater part of one of the walls; the room was furnished in nondescript style, partly as dining-room and partly as study; a square of carpet placed in front of the fire gave a certain degree of comfort to the upper portion of the apartment; the lower part near the entrance door was bare of carpet and also of furniture. A high desk occupied the whole of one window. Rowton placed the paraffin lamp now on this desk; he turned it up high and the light illuminated the entire room. “Bad enough hole for a man to live in, but the lap of luxury compared to Nancy’s sitting-room,” he muttered. A red gleam sparkled angrily in his eye as he spoke; he sat down where the firelight fell all over him, tossed off his heavy boots, and gazed gloomily into the heart of a large and glowing fire. He was a huge man, built on a massive scale. He tossed his hair impatiently from a broad and splendidly developed brow. At this moment his eyes were full of dreadful and fierce reflection, and he pulled at his long moustache with an almost savage gesture. “Without food, without fire, without the decencies of life—that old fool is a madman,” he muttered again, “but I’ll soon change matters. I take her with leave, if I can, but I take her without leave if any difficulties are put in my way, and sooner without leave than with. After all, to carry her off by force would suit my purpose better. The wild bird shall sing to me and make me gentle; I cannot live without her. Hullo! what’s up now, Samson? Why don’t you go to bed?” “I forgot to tell you, sir, that the boxes will be here to-morrow night.” “Who told you that?” “Scrivener; I had a cipher from him by the last post.” “All right,” said Rowton, “take them in when they come.” “Between one and two to-morrow night,” repeated Samson; “there is no moon and we can easily get them carted off from the station without anyone noticing. Scrivener will come with them.” “All right,” said Rowton again. “What are you waiting for? To-morrow night is not to-night, and I am dog-tired and want to get to bed.” “There is no room in the cellar unless we move the boxes which are there already,” continued Samson. “We cannot go down there with lights in the daytime, and I can’t do the job by myself.” “You dog! I shan’t help you to move a box to-night; get off to bed and leave me alone.” Samson withdrew, muttering angrily as he did so.