"This way, my dear sir. One moment; there should be a basket here. Yes, here we are; would you mind lighting me? Thank you." Chester took the wax taper and lighted the old man, while he took down from behind the glass door, where it hung upon a hook, one of those cradle-like baskets in which a bottle of rich old wine can recline without destroying its fineness. "You see," said the old man, "I am a bit of a connoisseur. I like to keep my wine as it has lain in the bin. No decanting for me. Straight on down, my dear sir." Chester did not hesitate, but led on down the stone stairs, holding the light on high, the tiny taper shining back upon a pair of flashing eyes and the wrinkles of a now wonderfully wrinkled face, while in the shadows behind a thin, claw-like hand glided to the breast-pocket of the old-fashioned coat, to draw out one of those misnamed weapons formed of twisted whalebone, ending in a weighty leaden knob. Chester bore the light; behind him seemed to hover upon the dingy walls the Shadow of Death. CHAPTER NINETEEN. BY THE SKIN OF HIS TEETH. The Shadow passed away. In another moment a crushing blow from a life-preserver, delivered by a vigorous arm, would have fallen upon the back of Chester's skull, and sent him headlong down the flight of stairs; but the deadly weapon was thrust back into its owner's breast, and the fierce, vindictive expression passed from his face as there was a violent ringing of the largest of the row of bells hanging to their right, and Chester turned sharply round, taper in hand, to look questioningly at the old man. "Dear me!" he said, smiling, "how tiresome! This is one of the troubles of living quite alone, my dear young friend. I always have to answer my own door. I'm afraid that I must ask you to come back to the front room. Would you mind bringing the light? Thank you; I will take it." He blew out the clear little flame as they reached the glass door, and then set down the basket, before leading the way back into the library, where he glanced from the window. "Dear me!" he said. "More books. So very late in the day too. They always come at awkward times. Pray sit down or look at some of my works. You'll find something to interest you, I feel sure. Yes--yes; I'm coming," he said, as the bell rang loudly again. "Don't be so impatient, my good men, don't be so impatient." "One moment; if you have business, I will go now," said Chester. "Oh, by no means," said the old man. "I shall not be many moments. Pray take a book and my chair, there. It is only the railway men. I shall soon be done." Chester did not take the chair, but began to inspect the dusty shelves, while he heard the front door open and after a time the sound of heavy feet upon the steps, and then the bump down of what sounded like a heavy chest. Then more steps outside, the rattle of a chain belonging to the tail-board of a van, and the steps again.