"See that bright light close ahead?" said Cecil, pointing with his whip. "That's Borden Tower, where we hang out, you know. We shall be there in a minute or two." "Perhaps!" growled de Cartienne from behind, making a nervous clutch at the side of the trap, "Cis, my dear fellow, you're not driving a fire-engine, and there's nothing to be gained by this confounded hurry. George! I was nearly out that time." We had turned round a sharp corner into a winding drive, devoid of trees, and planted only with stunted shrubs. On one side, between us and the shore, was a long, irregular plantation of small fir trees, through which the night wind was moaning with a sound not unlike the more distant roar of the sea. Directly in front loomed a high dark building, standing out with almost startling abruptness against a void of sky and moor. "Here we are!" exclaimed Cecil, pulling up with a flourish before the front entrance. "John, help down the poor, nervous invalid behind, and take Brandy and Soda round to the stable at once. They're too hot to stand still in this damp air a second." We passed across a large but somewhat dreary hall into a warm, comfortable dining-room. A bright fire was blazing in the grate, and a table in the centre of the room was very tastefully laid for dinner. "Make yourself at home, Morton!" exclaimed Cecil, standing on the hearthrug and stretching out a numbed hand to the blaze. "Draw an easy-chair up to the fire while James unpacks your traps and sees to your room. Leonard, ring the bell, there's a good fellow, and let them know we're ready for dinner." "Thanks; I think I'll go upstairs at once," I remarked. "All right! Here's James; he'll show you your room. One servant between three of us now. Good old James! I say, Morton, no swallow-tails, you know." I nodded and followed the man, who was waiting in the doorway, to my room. After my bare-floored, low-ceilinged attic at the farm, the apartment into which I was ushered seemed a very temple of luxury. There was a soft carpet upon the floor, many easy chairs, an Oriental divan, mirrors, and solid, handsomely carved furniture. Leading out of it on one side was a bath-room and on the other a small, cosy sitting-room, or study. "Is there anything more I can do for you, sir?" inquired the man, after he had poured out my hot water and set out the contents of my portmanteau. I shook my head and dismissed him. After a very brief toilet I hastened downstairs. The dinner was remarkably good and I was very hungry; but I found time to notice two things. The first was that Cecil drank a great deal more wine than at his age was good for him; and the second, that de Cartienne, who drank very little himself, concealed that fact as far as he was able and passed the bottle continually to Cecil. This did not much surprise me, for I had already formed my own opinion of de Cartienne.