The hall above shared the generous lines of the whole house, but the walls were white and hard to the eye. Rough planks had been laid down for a floor, and beyond the light of the candles lay a dark region that gave out ghostly echoes as the loose boards rattled under our feet. “I hope you’ll not be too much disappointed, sir,” said Bates, pausing a moment before opening a door. “It’s all quite unfinished, but comfortable, I should say, quite comfortable.” “Open the door!” He was not my host and I did not relish his apology. I walked past him into a small sitting-room that was, in a way, a miniature of the great library below. Open shelves filled with books lined the apartment to the ceiling on every hand, save where a small fireplace, a cabinet and table were built into the walls. In the center of the room was a long table with writing materials set in nice order. I opened a handsome case and found that it contained a set of draftsman’s instruments. I groaned aloud. “Mr. Glenarm preferred this room for working. The tools were his very own, sir.” “The devil they were!” I exclaimed irascibly. I snatched a book from the nearest shelf and threw it open on the table. It was The Tower: Its Early Use for Purposes of Defense. London: 1816. I closed it with a slam. “The sleeping-room is beyond, sir. I hope—” “Don’t you hope any more!” I growled; “and it doesn’t make any difference whether I’m disappointed or not.” “Certainly not, sir!” he replied in a tone that made me ashamed of myself. The adjoining bedroom was small and meagerly furnished. The walls were untinted and were relieved only by prints of English cathedrals, French chateaux, and like suggestions of the best things known to architecture. The bed was the commonest iron type; and the other articles of furniture were chosen with a strict regard for utility. My trunks and bags had been carried in, and Bates asked from the door for my commands. “Mr. Glenarm always breakfasted at seven-thirty, sir, as near as he could hit it without a timepiece, and he was quite punctual. His ways were a little odd, sir. He used to prowl about at night a good deal, and there was no following him.” “I fancy I shan’t do much prowling,” I declared. “And my grandfather’s breakfast hour will suit me exactly, Bates.” “If there’s nothing further, sir—” “That’s all;—and Bates—” “Yes, Mr. Glenarm.” “Of course you understand that I didn’t really mean to imply that you had fired that shot at me?” “I beg you not to mention it, Mr. Glenarm.” “But it was a little queer. If you should gain any light on the subject, let me know.” “Certainly, sir.” “But I believe, Bates, that we’d better keep the shades down at night. These duck hunters hereabouts are apparently reckless. And you might attend to these now, —and every evening hereafter.”