Carrier went on, "You will be Grand Seigneur--Lord of the Manor, in the
old style. You may have your guests if you like, but they too must
conform with the rules." Here he glanced at Wrexler, who still stood as
though he were in a trance. "The other six months you are free to do as
you please, spend what you like of the money not needed for
Rougemont--that is, _if you want to go anywhere else_."

Evidently he had finished his speech. At the time I did not recognize
the significance of his last words. "I am willing to submit to the
conditions; only"--a sudden thought struck me--"I don't want to lose all
touch with the outside world. Can I go to Vichy--to get papers and so
forth? I don't suppose they had papers in Francis First's time."

Monsieur de Carrier smiled. "My dear boy, your father didn't wish to
make a prisoner of you. You may go to Vichy if you like. But you must
not be away from Rougemont more than twenty-four consecutive hours
during the six months you are in residence.

"So far as the papers, etc., are concerned, they will be at the lodge.
There is also a telephone, and your own clothes will be kept there.
After tonight, nothing of 1935 must come within these halls, but you are
free to go to the lodge any time you want to. You can get in touch with
me also, if you desire further information. De Lacy, the steward, will
look out for you. He knows your father's ways. Now permit me to
congratulate you and say _au revoir_, my young friend."

Monsieur de Carrier got up on his stubby fat legs, made a little bow to
me, another to Wrexler which went unheeded.

I too arose. "It will seem strange, but I'll do my best."

"One other thing," Monsieur de Carrier was all of a sudden very grave.
"In two weeks' time you will be given a key. It unlocks a casket you
will find in the library. In it you will find a message from your
father. Adieu, my boy, I wish you well."

With a click of the heels and a friendly smile, he was gone.

I turned to Wrexler. "What do you think of it?" I asked.

Wrexler did not answer. He still stood gazing up at the stairway. The
wide, marble steps curved upward. Along the sides, the intricate carving
was beautiful in its lacy delicateness.

At that moment, however, I was alarmed for my friend. His attitude was
rigid, and his eyes were glassy. I put my hand on his shoulder.
"Wrexler!"

My action galvanized him to life. "Another minute and she would have
reached the last step! Now she i