as answered by the same man who had opened the
night before, but now, in some indefinable way, his calm, while flawless
externally, seemed to have lifted to a mere surface, as though he might
hastily have assumed his coat. To Orde's inquiry he stated with great
brevity that Miss Bishop was not yet visible, and prepared to close the
door.

"You are mistaken," said Orde, with equal brevity, and stepped inside.
"I have an engagement with Miss Bishop. Tell her Mr. Orde is here."

The man departed in some doubt, leaving Orde standing in the gloomy
hall. That young man, however, quite cheerfully parted the heavy
curtains leading into a parlour, and sat down in a spindle-legged chair.
At his entrance, a maid disappeared out another door, carrying with her
the implements of dusting and brushing.

Orde looked around the room with some curiosity. It was long, narrow,
and very high. Tall windows admitted light at one end. The illumination
was, however, modified greatly by hangings of lace covering all the
windows, supplemented by heavy draperies drawn back to either side. The
embrasure was occupied by a small table, over which seemed to flutter
a beautiful marble Psyche. A rubber plant, then as now the mark of the
city and suburban dweller, sent aloft its spare, shiny leaves alongside
a closed square piano. The lack of ornaments atop the latter bespoke
the musician. Through the filtered gloom of the demi-light Orde surveyed
with interest the excellent reproductions of the Old World masterpieces
framed on the walls--"Madonnas" by Raphael, Murillo, and Perugino,
the "Mona Lisa," and Botticelli's "Spring"--the three oil portraits
occupying the large spaces; the spindle-legged chairs and tables, the
tea service in the corner, the tall bronze lamp by the piano, the neat
little grate-hearth, with its mantel of marble; the ormolu clock, all
the decorous and decorated gentility which marked the irreproachable
correctness of whoever had furnished the apartment. Dark and heavy
hangings depended in front of a double door leading into another room
beyond. Equally dark and heavy hangings had closed behind Orde as he
entered. An absolute and shrouded stillness seemed to settle down upon
him. The ormolu clock ticked steadily. Muffled sounds came at long
intervals from behind the portieres. Orde began to feel oppressed and
subdued.

For quite three quarters of an hour he waited without hearing any
other indications of life than the muffled so