e smartly behind me, and said
composedly--

"Show a light, Jenkins, and let us have a look at the gentleman."

Though it concerned my neck, I was taken too quickly aback to stir;
but stood like a stuck pig, while the butler fumbled with his
tinder-box.

"Light _all_ the candles!"

"If it please you, Sir Harry," Jenkins answered, puffing at the
tinder.

The first thing I saw by the blue light of the brimstone match was
the barrel of old Sir Harry's pistol glimmering about six inches from
my nose. On my left stood a long-legged footman, also with a pistol.
But all this, though discomposing, was no more than I had begun to
expect. What really startled me, as old Jenkins lit the candles, was
the sight of two women standing a few paces off, beneath a tall
picture of a gentleman with a big lace collar. One of them, a short
woman with a bunchy shape, I recognised for the housekeeper.
The other I guessed as quickly to be Sir Harry's daughter, Mistress
Kate--a tall and slender young lady, dark-haired, and handsome as any
man could wish. She was wrapped in a long travelling-cloak, the hood
of which fell a little off her shoulders, allowing a glimpse of white
satin. A train of white satin reached below the cloak, and coiled
about her pretty feet.

Now, the change from darkness to very bright light--for Jenkins went
down the gallery lighting candle after candle, as if for a big
reception--made us all wink a bit. And excitement would account for
the white of the young lady's cheeks--I dare say I had turned pretty
pale myself. But it did not seem to me to account for the look of
sheer blank astonishment--no, it was more than this; a wild kind of
wonder would be nearer the mark--that came into her eyes and stayed
there. And I didn't quite see why she should put a hand suddenly
against the wainscot, and from sickly white go red as fire and then
back to white again. If they were sitting up for housebreakers, I
was decidedly a better-looking one than they had any right to expect.
The eyes of the others were fastened on me. I was the only one to
take note of the girl's behaviour: and I declare I spared a second
from the consideration of my own case to wonder what the deuce was
the matter with her.

"Well, upon my soul!" cried Sir Harry, with something between a laugh
and a sniff of disgust; and the footman on the other side of me
echoed it with a silly cackle. "He certainly doesn't look as if he
came from Bath!"

"