cupied by
himself, and by skirting the railings with due caution, he managed to
half lead, half drag his companion to the house. When they stood before
the door, and Berwin had assured himself that he was actually home by
the use of his latch-key, Denzil wished him a curt good-night. "And I
should advise you to go to bed at once," he concluded, turning to
descend the steps.

"Don't go! Don't go!" cried Berwin, seizing the young man by the arm. "I
am afraid to go in by myself--all is so dark and cold! Wait until I get
a light!"

As the creature's nerves seemed to be unhinged by over-indulgence in
alcohol, and he stood gasping and shivering on the threshold like some
beaten animal, Lucian took compassion on him.

"I'll see you indoors," said he, and striking a match, stepped into the
darkness after the man. The hall of No. 13 seemed to be almost as cold
as the world without, and the trifling glimmer of the lucifer served
rather to reveal than dispel the surrounding darkness. The light, as it
were, hollowed a gulf out of the tremendous gloom and made the house
tenfold more ghostly than before. The footsteps of Denzil and Berwin
sounding on the bare boards--for the hall was uncarpeted--waked hollow
echoes, and when they paused the silence which ensued seemed almost
menacing. The grim reputation of the mansion, its gloom and silence,
appealed powerfully to the latent superstition of Lucian. How much more
nearly, then, would it touch the shaken and excited nerves of the tragic
drunkard who dwelt continually amid its terrors!

Berwin opened a door on the right-hand side of the hall and turned up
the light of a handsome oil-lamp which had been screwed down pending his
arrival. This lamp was placed on a small square table covered with a
white cloth and a dainty cold supper. The young barrister noted that the
napery, cutlery, and crystal were all of the finest; that the viands
were choice; that champagne and claret were the beverages. Evidently
Berwin was a luxurious gentleman and indulgent to his appetites.

Lucian tried to gain a long look at him in the mellow light, but Berwin
kept his face turned away, and seemed as anxious now for his visitor to
go as he had been for him to enter. Denzil, quick in comprehension, took
the hint at once.

"I'll go now, as you have the light burning," said he. "Good-night."

"Good-night," replied Berwin shortly, and added to his discourtesy by
letting Lucian find his way out alone.

An