"Perhaps it's the cripple brother's room," I suggested; "bedroom and sitting-room in one, as he probably finds it difficult to go up and down stairs." Moore seemed struck by my acuteness. "Yes," he said. "I expect it is. It had the look of it." "Well?" I continued, surprised at the silence which ensued, "go on!" for he seemed to be thinking deeply. "What do you mean?" he replied. "`Go on' about what?" "All that you saw, of course," I answered impatiently. "Don't begin thinking about it till you have told me the whole! Then we can discuss it together." He looked up in surprise. "There isn't any more to tell," he said. "I was only thinking to myself how queer it is altogether." I gave a little laugh, half derisively. "Why, that's what everybody thinks," I said, "who knows anything about it. There's nothing original in that." "I didn't suppose there was," said Moore, beginning to get cross. I was feeling cross too. I think one often does after any unusual strain or excitement, especially when it ends in nothing, as our present adventure now seemed to do. "I thought," I continued unwisely, "that you had made some wonderful discovery, or at least that you thought yourself on the road to one, and now it has all ended in smoke!" My tone must have been very provoking, but Moore was a queer boy in some ways. His irritation seemed to have disappeared. "There is a certain proverb," he said oracularly, "which your words remind me of. `There is no smoke without fire.' What do you say to that?--Eh?--I beg your pardon. What did you remark?" I had not remarked anything. I suppose I had muttered something inarticulate in my irritation. "Don't be nonsensical," I said sharply. "You needn't begin hinting, with nothing to hint about!" Moore was gazing in front of him, and when he spoke again I was really at a loss to tell whether he was in earnest or not. "There was one thing I have not told you of," he said. "In one corner of the room there was a heavy, long black curtain--_black_," he repeated impressively. "It cut off that corner of the room as it were. There may be a door behind it leading to a staircase; there may be--a skeleton for all I know, or--goodness knows what!" "Rubbish!" I exclaimed this time. "You are drawing on your imagination just to keep up the farce! I don't believe you even saw the curtain!" He faced round on me. "Reggie!" he exclaimed, "I _did_ see a curtain, word of honour." "Naturally," I replied, "most windows have curtains. You know what I mean. I don't believe you saw any unusual kind of curtain, or that it was black." "I swear to you it was black, and a very unusual kind of curtain." "Then why didn't you tell me of it before?" I inquired. "It may have looked black because the room was dark." "I was thinking about it," he answered.