"Oh, thanks," said Derek.
He was alone.
A clock in the hall struck ten with harsh, penetrating tones.
The dog was snuffling at the crack under the door, evidently disturbed by the strange presence.
Derek went to a window and looked out. No moon; he had never seen such utter darkness. It was as though Grimstone had swallowed him, and a tangible body was reared between him and the world he had known. He turned back to the room and picked up the lamp. Mrs. Machin had told him that she had prepared two bedrooms for him—one downstairs—one above. (It didn't make no difference to her which he took.) Detestable old woman. Why had she not warned him of the step? Even knowing of it he almost stumbled. The lamplight showed him a severe hall with five closed doors, and a hatstand, on either side of which a deer's head peered at him with startled brown eyes. The tall clock stood under the stairway beside a narrow door, which, when he opened it disclosed only a closet hung with hats and coats, and a shelf of old magazines and ledgers. His uncle's clothes. He closed the door feeling a little rebuffed for his curiosity, and opened a door opposite. Here was the parlour: a long, narrow room with two doors opening on the hall, and a row of low windows, hung with straight green curtains. There were many walnut chairs and tables, the latter ornamented with brass-bound books, and glass candelabra with hanging prisms. A group in marble stood on the closed piano; a few oil-paintings hung against the pale walls. A room full of memories; not to be taken possession of lightly, rather repelling intrusion.
Across the hall he found a bedroom whose tall four-poster and deep leather chair pleased him at once. The old Eng-
