Presently Mr. Drelincourt quitted the library, and, traversing the entrance hall, went up the fine old oaken staircase at the farther end. But on reaching the spacious landing at the top, instead of turning to the right in the direction of his own and his late wife's apartments, he turned to the left, and after going some way down a corridor which gave access to sundry rooms, he came to a red baize covered door--the others were all of oak or walnut--with a bell pull pendent at one side of it. At this he gave a tug, which was responded to by a faint tinkle somewhere inside. Half a minute later a little wicket in the door was drawn back, and a woman's face appeared at the opening. On perceiving who it was that had rung the bell, the face, an unusually grave one, for the most part, brightened perceptibly. "Will you be kind enough to open the door," said Mr. Drelincourt. Sometimes he contented himself with asking a question or two at the wicket, and did not enter. The woman nodded, and shut the wicket. Then from the bunch of keys at her waist she selected one, and with it opened the door, which was shut and relocked as soon as Mr. Drelincourt had crossed the threshold. But at this point it may be as well to take leave of the master of Wyvern Towers for a while, and in order that the reader may have a due comprehension of what has yet to be told, make him acquainted, in as brief terms as may be, with certain particulars having reference to that person's family history, and to the relations which had existed between his father and himself. The late Colonel Drelincourt had been twice married, and had left behind him two children--Felix, his son by his first wife, and Anna, his daughter by his second. At the time of the colonel's death the former was twenty three years old, and the latter thirteen. His second wife had predeceased him by a few years. As a young man, Felix had serious differences with his father, whose pet project it was that his son should follow his own profession. This, however, Felix resolutely declined to do. He had no taste whatever for soldiering; nor, on the other hand, did a political career hold out any attractions for him. He was a studious and bookishly inclined man, addicted to experimental chemistry, and with a strong liking for travel and exploration. Of sport, in the common acceptance of the term, he knew nothing and cared as little; but he had a fondness for horses, and was an intrepid rider. The colonel, a military martinet of the old school, who held a blind obedience to one's superiors to be one of the main rules of conduct, never forgave his son's refusal to follow in the course he had prescribed for him. At his death it was found that, outside the entailed property, he had left everything he was possessed of to his daughter, to whom he had been passionately attached.