gravel and entered the open
veranda door. Within was a pleasant room, glass on one side, and on
the other a mass of books. More books showed in an inner room. On the
floor, instead of tables, stood cases such as you see in a museum,
filled with coins and queer stone implements.

There was a knee-hole desk in the middle, and seated at it, with some
papers and open volumes before him, was the benevolent old gentleman.
His face was round and shiny, like Mr Pickwick's, big glasses were
stuck on the end of his nose, and the top of his head was as bright and
bare as a glass bottle. He never moved when I entered, but raised his
placid eyebrows and waited on me to speak.

It was not an easy job, with about five minutes to spare, to tell a
stranger who I was and what I wanted, and to win his aid. I did not
attempt it. There was something about the eye of the man before me,
something so keen and knowledgeable, that I could not find a word. I
simply stared at him and stuttered.

'You seem in a hurry, my friend,'he said slowly.

I nodded towards the window. It gave a prospect across the moor
through a gap in the plantation, and revealed certain figures half a
mile off straggling through the heather.

'Ah, I see,' he said, and took up a pair of field-glasses through which
he patiently scrutinized the figures.

'A fugitive from justice, eh? Well, we'll go into the matter at our
leisure. Meantime I object to my privacy being broken in upon by the
clumsy rural policeman. Go into my study, and you will see two doors
facing you. Take the one on the left and close it behind you. You
will be perfectly safe.'

And this extraordinary man took up his pen again.

I did as I was bid, and found myself in a little dark chamber which
smelt of chemicals, and was lit only by a tiny window high up in the
wall. The door had swung behind me with a click like the door of a
safe. Once again I had found an unexpected sanctuary.

All the same I was not comfortable. There was something about the old
gentleman which puzzled and rather terrified me. He had been too easy
and ready, almost as if he had expected me. And his eyes had been
horribly intelligent.

No sound came to me in that dark place. For all I knew the police
might be searching the house, and if they did they would want to know
what was behind this door. I tried to possess my soul in patience, and
to forget how hungry I was.

Then I took a more cheerful view. T