with our effects in time to meet Mr. Searle at
dinner. On my arrival several hours later I was immediately conducted
to my room. The servant pointed out to me that it communicated by a
door and a private passage with that of my fellow visitor. I made my way
along this passage--a low narrow corridor with a broad latticed casement
through which there streamed upon a series of grotesquely sculptured
oaken closets and cupboards the vivid animating glow of the western
sun--knocked at his door and, getting no answer, opened it. In an
armchair by the open window sat my friend asleep, his arms and legs
relaxed and head dropped on his breast. It was a great relief to see him
rest thus from his rhapsodies, and I watched him for some moments before
waking him. There was a faint glow of colour in his cheek and a light
expressive parting of his lips, something nearer to ease and peace than
I had yet seen in him. It was almost happiness, it was almost health. I
laid my hand on his arm and gently shook it. He opened his eyes, gazed
at me a moment, vaguely recognised me, then closed them again. "Let me
dream, let me dream!"

"What are you dreaming about?"

A moment passed before his answer came. "About a tall woman in a quaint
black dress, with yellow hair and a sweet, sweet smile, and a soft low
delicious voice! I'm in love with her."

"It's better to see her than to dream about her," I said. "Get up and
dress; then we'll go down to dinner and meet her."

"Dinner--dinner--?" And he gradually opened his eyes again. "Yes, upon
my word I shall dine!"

"Oh you're all right!" I declared for the twentieth time as he rose to
his feet. "You'll live to bury Mr. Simmons." He told me he had spent the
hours of my absence with Miss Searle--they had strolled together half
over the place. "You must be very intimate," I smiled.

"She's intimate with ME. Goodness knows what rigmarole I've treated her
to!" They had parted an hour ago; since when, he believed, her brother
had arrived.

The slow-fading twilight was still in the great drawing-room when we
came down. The housekeeper had told us this apartment was rarely used,
there being others, smaller and more convenient, for the same needs.
It seemed now, however, to be occupied in my comrade's honour. At the
furthest end, rising to the roof like a royal tomb in a cathedral, was
a great chimney-piece of chiselled white marble, yellowed by time, in
which a light fire was crackling. Before the fi