I glanced round. Despite the cheerful blaze of a fire, the room had a mildewed look, as though long uninhabited. Traces of hasty cleansing were visible in all corners, and in the dim light filtered through dusty panes, the apartment had a singularly uninviting aspect. Again that premonition of misfortune came over me. "I wonder you took up the house at all," said I. "You won't make your fortune in this locality." The landlord made no reply, but muttering something about supper left the room. His daughter had already departed, presumably in the direction of the kitchen, and I found myself alone with Francis Briarfield. He was absently looking out at the window, and started when I addressed him directly. I augured mystery therefrom. "What's the meaning of these mysteries?" I asked abruptly. The horror of the place was already influencing my spirits. "What mysteries?" demanded Briarfield, in a listless manner. "This inn has been uninhabited for some considerable period. A suspicious looking rascal and his pretty daughter have taken up their abode here with no possible chance of getting customers. I stumble on this Castle Grim in the twilight and find you here--you of all men, whom I believed to be in South America. Don't you call these mysteries?" "If you put it that way I admit the mysteries," replied Francis, coming toward the fire. "I know little about the inn--still less about the landlord and his daughter. As to myself--I am here by appointment to meet my brother Felix. Came from London to Starby, and rode from thence to this inn." "Why meet him in this murderous looking house?" "He named the place of meeting himself." "And you?" "I only arrived this month in England from South America. I wrote him from London asking to see him. He appointed this inn as neutral ground for us to meet, so here I am." "Why neutral ground? Have you quarreled!" "Bitterly." "You did so at college," said I looking steadily at him. "Strange that such ill blood should exist between twin brothers." "The inevitable woman," said Francis, in a harsh tone, quite at variance with his usual soft speech. "Oh! And her name?" "Olivia Bellin!" "I know her. Do you mean to say, Briarfield, that----" "Hush!" he said, rapidly indicating the door, and there stood the girl Rose listening to our conversation. Her face was pale and it was evident that the mention of the name had powerfully affected her. Seeing our eyes were on her, she apologized in a low, nervous voice. "Your pardon, gentlemen," she said, placing a tray on the table. "I did not intend to interrupt your conversation. Allow me to lay the table for supper!" "First show me my room," said I, picking up my knapsack. "I am dusty, and wish to give myself a brush up." Rose nodded, and preceded me out of the apartment. I glanced back, and saw that Francis had returned to his old post by the window. Evidently he was watching for the arrival of his brother.