an imperative and uncompromising bell recalled me in due time to the
regions of reality. I looked at my watch. Nine o'clock.

Ambrose met me at the bottom of the stairs, and showed me the way to
the supper-room.

Mr. Meadowcroft's invalid chair had been wheeled to the head of the
table. On his right-hand side sat his sad and silent daughter. She
signed to me, with a ghostly solemnity, to take the vacant place on the
left of her father. Silas Meadowcroft came in at the same moment, and
was presented to me by his brother. There was a strong family likeness
between them, Ambrose being the taller and the handsomer man of the
two. But there was no marked character in either face. I set them down
as men with undeveloped qualities, waiting (the good and evil qualities
alike) for time and circumstances to bring them to their full growth.

The door opened again while I was still studying the two brothers,
without, I honestly confess, being very favorably impressed by either
of them. A new member of the family circle, who instantly attracted my
attention, entered the room.

He was short, spare, and wiry; singularly pale for a person whose life
was passed in the country. The face was in other respects, besides
this, a striking face to see. As to the lower part, it was covered with
a thick black beard and mustache, at a time when shaving was the rule,
and beards the rare exception, in America. As to the upper part of the
face, it was irradiated by a pair of wild, glittering brown eyes, the
expression of which suggested to me that there was something not quite
right with the man's mental balance. A perfectly sane person in all his
sayings and doings, so far as I could see, there was still something in
those wild brown eyes which suggested to me that, under exceptionally
trying circumstances, he might surprise his oldest friends by acting in
some exceptionally violent or foolish way. "A little cracked"--that in
the popular phrase was my impression of the stranger who now made his
appearance in the supper-room.

Mr. Meadowcroft the elder, having not spoken one word thus far, himself
introduced the newcomer to me, with a side-glance at his sons, which
had something like defiance in it--a glance which, as I was sorry to
notice, was returned with the defiance on their side by the two young
men.

"Philip Lefrank, this is my overlooker, Mr. Jago," said the old man,
formally presenting us. "John Jago, this is my young relative by
mar