"Yes," he said, "it appears to be a most remarkable affair." "Well," I exclaimed, "if you are determined not to report it just at present I'm ready to go with you and search the place. The area door is still unlocked, you say?" He hesitated, pale and agitated. The effect of this discovery upon him had been really remarkable. "Yes, the door is still unlocked, of course," he said reflectively, "but personally I don't care about returning." "Rubbish, my dear chap," I exclaimed. "I don't believe in superstitions. The finding of the snake was curious, no doubt, but this isn't the first time snakes have been found in the streets of London. Lots have been discovered about Covent Garden Market, having come over in baskets of fruit." He was silent. Evidently his discovery had been a very unusual one. I know well the row of houses he had indicated, the most old-fashioned, perhaps, in the district, for they had formed a part of old Kensington over a century ago, and even now the great iron extinguishers ornamented some of the doorways, mute remembrancers of the days of sedan chairs and linkmen. "Let's go and explore the place, and report afterwards," I urged, my appetite for adventure whetted by his strong disinclination to return. "I'll report it as a discovery of my own if you are disinclined to do so." "Very well," he answered at last, "let's go. But before we enter I tell you that it is a very mysterious house. Recollect that strange ringing I heard." "We'll look into all that later on," I said, surprised at his unusual agitation. There, facing one of the busiest thoroughfares of the West End, little harm surely could come to us. "Come along," I said, and thus persuaded, he quickened his footsteps. We passed along Abingdon Villas into Earl's Court Road, where, meeting a constable on duty, he borrowed his lamp; then turning into the Kensington Road we at length reached the house of mystery, which, as he had said, was a gloomy-looking place in total darkness.