The passages and stairs were all in darkness; but Mr. Fétis knew every angle and every step. He crept to the back staircase, which wound itself sinuously upward between the state apartments and the offices, and then he ascended noiselessly to a narrow landing outside Mr. Topsparkle's bedroom. He opened the door of that sacred apartment, and went in. There was a fire burning on the hearth, and light enough to show that the room was empty. It was a small room, luxuriously furnished, the low narrow French bed draped with cut velvet of so dark a red that it looked black in the firelight. A great fur rug lay in front of the bed, and an immense armchair, with wings at the sides to screen off the draught, stood by the fireplace. A little spindle-legged tea-table, and an Italian coffer upon carved legs, completed the furniture. Three choicest gems of Italian art, a Carlo Dolci, a Leonardo, and a Titian--cabinet pictures all of them--adorned the walls, and a Venetian mirror in a carved ebony and silver frame hung above the mantelpiece. Fétis squatted in front of the fire and warmed his aching limbs. One of his shivering fits came upon him as he sat there, and his teeth chattered; but the fever was soon upon him again, and then he left the fire and lay down on his master's bed, defiling the embroidered Indian coverlet with the dust and grime of the street. It was a masterpiece chosen by Lady Judith at the India house where she spent so much money and wasted so much time; a rendezvous and gossiping place for her idlest acquaintances; a resort where reputations were murdered daily in the politest fashion, and where modish women envied and hated each other with unvarying civility. Fétis lay on those Oriental roses and lilies, staring at the fire, wondering what Mr. Topsparkle would think were he to come in and find him there. But he did not intend to be discovered immediately. He meant to hide himself in that luxurious bower, to rise up like a spectre before his guilty master. There was a narrow space between the bed and the wall, just large enough to accommodate Fétis, and into this gully he slipped presently when he heard approaching footsteps, and lay there among the voluminous folds of the velvet curtains, warmly and even luxuriously lodged. Here he slept the sleep of exhaustion. It was daylight when he awoke: the fire was still burning, had been tended by the slave who kept watch in the great house o' nights. Fétis could hear the light fall of wood ashes in the grate, and the monotonous breathing of his slumbering master. He crept out from his hiding-place, and went round to the hearth. He seated himself in the deep armchair, warmed his aching limbs at the fire, and waited for his master's awakening. He had slept long and profoundly, but he was unrefreshed by his slumbers. He drained a carafe of water that stood on the table by the bed, and sat waiting and shivering.