He took in its details now with care, as if some one of them might give him a clue to his future. The fantastic yet effective diversity of its master's character was displayed in the chamber almost to excess. It was a long, oval, high-ceiled room, hung in blue and gold leather--the domed ceiling was blue, as well, and powdered with small gold stars. There were books and chemical apparatus, a set of chessmen whose kings rode ivory elephants, a foreign dagger with beryls set in the blade. An herbarium stood in a corner beside the articulated skeleton of a child--a violin lay on a carved wooden chest, neighbored by a case of surgical instruments, a pair of dividers and an azimuth. Yet in spite of this litter of incompatible objects and interests, the room gave an impression of neatness and order as precise as that of a captain's cabin on a shipshape frigate. Andrew felt that Dr. Gentian could go blindfold to any single thing in the room and put his hand upon it--and also, that the room was, in a measure, an extension of the soul of its master, and, should he die, would be haunted forever by a light, sure footstep and a tight, Roman smile. He turned over the leaves of the herbal--the plates made a blur of color in his eyes and Dr. Gentian was saying something about mulberries that he should listen to, but his mind was racked, and he could not attend. "I intended the ceiling as a planetary map, showing roughly the movements of the various heavenly bodies and the transit of the moon," said his host, politely, as Andrew's eyes strayed from the herbal to the ceiling, "But the work was never completed." He sighed. "Perhaps some day, we can manage it." "It is a splendid chamber, sir," said Andrew, thinking of Sparta. "It is my retreat," Dr. Gentian confided. "You may not have noticed--but there is deadening in the walls, and when I am secluded here, there are orders I shall not be disturbed. I even have my own staircase to the upper part of the house." "Really?" said Andrew, marshalling the facts of his birth and worldly circumstances in proper order to present to a father. "Yes, indeed," said Dr. Gentian. He rose and opened a door at the side--a door flush with the wall. "Would you like to see it--the workmanship is truly ingenious." He led the way up a short, winding stair, chatting. At a landing, he paused. "We are behind the ceiling now," he said. He slid a little panel back with an oily click. "When I planned my planetary map, I thought to place my moon here and light it with a concealed lamp--a childish fancy enough, but what's life without vagaries? Then I thought my toy might burn the roof down over my head some fine night and gave up the plan. As it is, my moon makes an excellent Judas-hole if I had need of one." He stepped aside. Andrew came forward and peered through a small round opening directly down into the room which they had just left. He muttered something about an interesting device.