l, indeed almost impersonal,
attacked him as he entered, hurricane-lantern aloft. For the poet that
informed his lightest action dictated that the ray of a lantern and not
the glare of a modern electric appliance should illuminate that
memory-haunted spot.

Gyves fastened up his limbs and dread of some cruel doom struck at his
heart as he stooped to enter the place. Here again the powerful
influence of Sir Jacques was imperceptible; the dungeon lay under the
spell of a stronger and darker personality; and as he curiously examined
its structure and form, to learn that it was older than the oldest part
of the house above, he knew himself to be in a survival of some
forgotten stronghold upon whose ashes a Tudor mansion had been reared.
Searing irons glared before his eyes; in a dim, arched corner a brazier
glowed dully; ropes creaked.

Returning to the library, he found himself again within the aura of his
departed uncle. It was in this book-lined apartment that Sir Jacques had
transacted the affairs of the ugly little church at Mid Hatton and the
volumes burdening the leather-edged shelves were of a character meet for
the eye of an elder. The smaller erotic collection in the locked bureau
in the study presumably had companioned Sir Jacques' more leisured
hours.

Paul sank into a deep, padded arm-chair. The library of Hatton Towers
was in the south-east wing, and now because of the night's stillness dim
booming of distant guns was audible. A mood of reflection claimed him,
and from it he sank into sleep, to dream of the portrait of Sir Jacques
which seemed to have become transparent, so that the camel-like head now
appeared, as in those monstrous postcard caricatures which at one time
flooded the Paris shops, to be composed of writhing nudities cunningly
intertwined, of wanton arms, and floating locks and leering woman-faces.

VI

Through the sun-gay gardens, wet with dew, Paul made his way on the
following morning. The songs of the birds delighted him and the homely
voices of cattle in the meadows were musical because the skies were
blue. A beetle crawled laboriously across the gravel path before him,
and he stepped aside to avoid crushing it; a ladybird discovered on the
brim of his hat had to be safely deposited on a rose bush, nor in
performing this act of charity did he disturb the web of a small spider
who resided hard by. Because the flame of life burnt high within him, he
loved all life to-day.

The world