—the remembrance only of one brief visit made there years before, a boy of ten with my father. I had never been in this room, which must be the parlor, but I knew a wide hallway led straight through from front door to back, bisected only by a broad stairway leading to the upper story. The library would be opposite directly across the hall, and the dining room behind that. I had been in both these apartments, and they had seemed to me then spacious and wonderful; quite the most remarkable rooms I had ever seen. I groped along the inside wall, seeking the door, making no particular effort to be noiseless, yet rendered cautious by fear of stumbling over misplaced furniture. The apartment was evidently in much disorder, glass crackling under my feet, and a breadth of thick carpet torn up, so that I tripped over it, and nearly fell. Yet I found the door at last, standing wide open, and emerged into the hall. The way was clearer here, and there came into my mind the recollection of a bracket lamp, on the wall at the foot of the stairs. Perhaps it was there still, and might contain oil. If this could be located, a light would be of great assistance, and could not add very much to my peril of discovery. No one would be abroad in this desolate country on such a night of storm, and the house was utterly abandoned. Besides, the heavy blinds at most of the windows were closed
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The Red Mist
