The gazer turned and pursued his inquiries into the room. He found little to reward his curiosity, beyond the general beauty of an ancient interior; for the chamber was panelled in oak, like the other where he had supped, and the window was a fine oriel, with heraldic devices in stained glass in its topmost squares. For furniture there were the great bed, whose posts were richly carved in antique foliage; a wardrobe no less generously designed; a washhand-stand and chairs of plain solid oak, and an oak table in the embrasure of the window, with a cracked mirror of old _repoussé_ brass work standing on it. This, indeed, was the one exception to that tasteful substantiality of accessory with which a mysterious destiny seemed to have supplied his needs. Else there were no pictures, no carpet, no curtains, no adornments of any kind--only a severe simplicity, in which was suggested a certain methodical cleanliness which, it pleased the man of fashion to think, was far remote from the systems of society with its accumulations of glittering rubbish. He went through his toilet singing, and, opening his door, found himself on a broad landing, wherefrom half-a-dozen other doors gave access to as many rooms. Into each of these In order he peeped. They were empty, one and all--dusty, spider-haunted; and not a room of them, it appeared, but had had, at some remote period, its oak flooring roughly jarred up, and as roughly thrown and stamped into place again. In one or two, moreover, bricks, dislodged from the chimneys, were cast pell-mell upon the hearths; or fissures gaped in the walls or in the plaster of the ceilings. “One would think,” he murmured, “that the place had withstood a siege.” That it was designed with an eye to such a contingency, the massive nature of its window-shutters would seem to point. These--all of which had been obviously only recently thrown open--were of a common pattern of studded oak, and their hinges were sunk deep in the masonry of the walls. Closed, their power of resistance would have been as that of the stones themselves. Throughout the house, when its owner came to explore it, this same feature was apparent. The building, in an emergency, could have been sealed as securely as a castle. Mr. Tuke found his breakfast laid in the room where he had supped. As he entered the figure of a girl, that had been busy at the table, came forward as if to pass him. He barred her way, and she stopped immediately. “Are you Darda?” said he. She gave a shrill laugh, and “Yes,” she answered.