"Dr. Mercer is at dinner," explained the man with the lantern. "He
don't like it much if he's disturbed at such times."

"We will wait until he has finished; we are in no great hurry."

The man seemed puzzled as to how to act. With the light held aloft so
that not a feature escaped him, he examined them closely. Apparently
he could see nothing with which to find fault; and so he sighed in a
perplexed fashion.

"He does not care to have people wait for him," complained the man.
"He gets very angry if he is worried by such things while dining."

"You need not announce us until he is through," said Ashton-Kirk,
composedly.

The man hesitated; but finally resolved upon a course and led them up
a flight of stone steps and into a wide hall. The night was raw and a
brisk fire of pine knots burning in an old-fashioned hall fireplace,
made the place very comfortable.

"If you will be seated, gentlemen," requested their guide, "I will
tell Dr. Mercer of your presence as soon as he has finished."

They seated themselves obligingly in a couple of low, heavy chairs
near the fire; and then the man left them. The hall was high and
rather bare: the hardwood floor shone brilliantly under the lights;
save for the faint murmur of voices from a near-by room, everything
was still.

"I should imagine that a place of this sort wouldn't be at all noisy,"
observed Pendleton, in a heavy attempt at jocularity.

Except for a word now and then, they waited in silence for a half
hour; then a door opened and steps were heard in the hall. Both turned
and saw a remarkably small man, perhaps well under five feet, dressed
with great care and walking with a quick nervous step. His head was
very large and partly bald, rearing above his small frame like a
great, bare dome; he carried a silk hat in his hand, and peered
abstractedly through spectacles of remarkable thickness.

"Locke," breathed Pendleton, as his heart paused for a moment and then
went on with a leap.

The little man apparently did not see them until he was almost beside
them; then he paused with a start, and his eyes grew owlish behind the
magnifying lenses as he strove to make them out. That he did not
recognize them seemed to worry him; his thin, gray face seemed to grow
grayer and thinner; with a diffident little bow he passed on and out
at the front door.

"Not a very formidable looking criminal," commented Ashton-Kirk,
quietly. "However, you can seldom judge by appearanc