But the house, like
its surroundings, wore a desolate, neglected look, moreover it was
dark, not a light was to be seen anywhere from attic to cellar. Yet,
as Barnabas followed the sweep of the avenue, he suddenly espied a
soft glow that streamed from an uncurtained window giving upon the
terrace; therefore he drew rein, and dismounting, led his horse in
among the trees and, having tethered him there, advanced towards the
gloomy house, his gaze upon the lighted window, and treading with an
ever growing caution.
Now, as he went, he took out one of the pistols, cocked it, and with
it ready in his hand, came to the window and peered into the room.
It was a long, low chamber with a fireplace at one end, and here,
his frowning gaze bent upon the blazing logs, sat Mr. Chichester.
Upon the small table at his elbow were decanter and glasses, with a
hat and gloves and a long travelling cloak. As Barnabas stood there
Mr. Chichester stirred impatiently, cast a frowning glance at the
clock in the corner and reaching out to the bell-rope that hung
beside the mantel, jerked it viciously, and so fell to scowling at
the fire again until the door opened and a bullet-headed,
square-shouldered fellow entered, a formidable ruffian with pugilist
written in his every feature; to whom Mr.
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