near the pedestal of the silver statuette holding
the feeble and tenacious gleam which made the shadows so heavy in that
hall. One of his arms lay across his breast. The other arm was extended
full length on the white-and-black pavement with the hand palm upwards
and the fingers rigidly spread out. The shadow of the lowest step
slanted across his face but one whisker and part of his chin could be
made out. He appeared strangely flattened. He didn't move at all. He
was in his shirt-sleeves. I felt an extreme distaste for that sight.
The characteristic sound of a key worrying in the lock stole into my
ears. I couldn't locate it but I didn't attend much to that at first. I
was engaged in watching Senor Ortega. But for his raised leg he clung so
flat to the floor and had taken on himself such a distorted shape that he
might have been the mere shadow of Senor Ortega. It was rather
fascinating to see him so quiet at the end of all that fury, clamour,
passion, and uproar. Surely there was never anything so still in the
world as this Ortega. I had a bizarre notion that he was not to be
disturbed.

A noise like the rattling of chain links, a small grind and click
exploded in the stillness of the hall and a eciov began to swear in
Italian. These surprising sounds were quite welcome, they recalled me to
myself, and I perceived they came from the front door which seemed pushed
a little ajar. Was somebody trying to get in? I had no objection, I
went to the door and said: "Wait a moment, it's on the chain." The deep
voice on the other side said: "What an extraordinary thing," and I
assented mentally. It was extraordinary. The chain was never put up,
but Therese was a thorough sort of person, and on this night she had put
it up to keep no one out except myself. It was the old Italian and his
daughters returning from the ball who were trying to get in.

Suddenly I became intensely alive to the whole situation. I bounded
back, closed the door of Blunt's room, and the next moment was speaking
to the Italian. "A little patience." My hands trembled but I managed to
take down the chain and as I allowed the door to swing open a little more
I put myself in his way. He was burly, venerable, a little indignant,
and full of thanks. Behind him his two girls, in short-skirted costumes,
white stockings, and low shoes, their heads powdered and earrings
sparkling in their ears, huddled together behind their father, wrapped up