walls of Trewinion Manor.

II

There was a cold vault-like atmosphere within the place, and as we went
along the dark corridors, every footstep sounding on the granite floor
and echoing through the great empty house, I felt like shuddering.

Outside the sun was shining and the west wind blowing, making
everything bright and glad; but within all was cold and forbidding.

Still we followed the man curiously, and I must confess I felt my heart
beat loudly against my ribs as he knocked at a dark, forbidding looking
door. I do not think I am usually nervous, but on this occasion I was
getting excited.

The knock was followed by a response.

"Come in," said a voice.

The old servant opened the door, and ushered us into a room that was on
every side lined with books. There were thousands of volumes on the
shelves. Some I saw were old and scarce, and exceedingly valuable.
Others again were new and well bound. I gave them but little attention
at the time, however, for my mind was drawn towards the lonely occupant
of the room, the master of the house.

He looked about sixty years of age, but was large-boned, tall, and
vigorous. His hair was iron grey, but had evidently been black. His
eyes were black, and his great rugged forehead was fringed with bushy
eyebrows, which gave him a somewhat fierce appearance. His nose was
large, his mouth was large, and his chin, too, was large, square, and
determined. He was no ordinary man. There was the stamp of unusual
power upon him. He was no trifler, and yet beneath his look of
determination and energy something was lacking. He seemed as though
his determination needed to be roused, his energy to be stimulated.
Yet I could see nothing in his appearance which justified the opinions
we had heard expressed about him, nor could I discover anything which
suggested a misanthrope.

He placed chairs for us both, and then politely asked what he could do
to serve us. He had a strong, deep, somewhat musical voice, and had I
not been otherwise informed, I should have regarded him as one who
often entertained visitors, so free from restraint did he seem.

"I hope you will excuse us for calling," I said, "but my story must
explain my rudeness. I follow literature as a profession, and have for
some months been engaged on a work dealing with the legends and
superstitious beliefs of Cornwall. I am, however, enjoying my vacation
now, and my friend and I are on a walking tour alo