ur or more, looking into different rooms,
showing their guest the finest pictures, even taking him down into the
wonderful cellars. They parted early, but Quest stood, for a few moments
before retiring, gazing about him with an air almost of awe. His great
room, as large as an apartment in an Italian palace, was lit by a dozen
wax candles in silver candlesticks. His four-poster was supported by
pillars of black oak, carved into strange forms, and surmounted by the
Ashleigh coronet and coat of arms. He threw his windows open wide and
stood for a moment looking out across the park, more clearly visible now
by the light of the slowly rising moon. There was scarcely a breeze
stirring, scarcely a sound even from the animal world. Nevertheless,
Quest, too, as reluctantly he made his preparations for retiring for the
night, was conscious of that queer sensation of unimagined and impalpable
danger.

CHAPTER X

LOST IN LONDON

1.

Quest, notwithstanding the unusual nature of his surroundings, slept that
night as only a tired and healthy man can. He was awakened the next
morning by the quiet movements of a man-servant who had brought back his
clothes carefully brushed and pressed. He sat up in bed and discovered a
small china tea equipage by his side.

"What's this?" he enquired.

"Your tea, sir."

Quest drank half a cupful without protest.

"Your bath is ready at any time, sir."

"I'm coming right along," Quest replied, jumping out of bed.

The man held up a dressing-gown and escorted him to an unexpectedly modern
bathroom at the end of the corridor. When Quest returned, his toilet
articles were all laid out for him with prim precision; the window was
wide open, the blinds drawn, and a soft breeze was stealing through into
the room. Below him, the park, looking more beautiful than ever in the
morning sunshine, stretched away to a vista of distant meadowlands and
cornfields, with here and there a little farm-house and outbuildings,
gathered snugly together. The servant, who had heard him leave the
bathroom, reappeared.

"Is there anything further I can do for you, sir?" he enquired.

"Nothing at all, thanks," Quest assured him. "What time's breakfast?"

"Breakfast is served at nine o'clock, sir. It is now half-past eight."

The man withdrew and Quest made a brisk toilet. The nameless fears of the
previous night had altogether disappeared. To his saner morning
imagination, the atmosphere seemed somehow to