nctum, my curiosity grew unbounded
and I neglected nothing which would be likely to attract the
keenest-eyed detective in Mr. Gryce's force. There were several things
to be noted there: First, that this lumbering lout of a man read, but
only on one topic--vivisection; secondly, that he was not a reader
merely, for there were instruments in the cases heaped up on the tables
about me, and in one corner--it made me a little sick, but I persevered
in searching out the corners--a glass case with certain horrors in it
which I took care to note, but which it is not necessary for me to
describe. Another corner was blocked up by a closet which stood out in
the room in a way to convince me it had been built in after the room was
otherwise finished. As I crossed over to examine the door, which did not
appear to me to be quite closed, I noticed on the floor at my feet a
huge discoloration. This was the worst thing I had yet encountered, and
while I did not feel quite justified in giving it a name, I could not
but feel some regret for the worm-eaten rags of the drawing-room, which,
after all, are more comfortable underfoot than bare boards with such
suggestive marks upon them as these.

The door to the closet was, as I had expected, slightly ajar, a fact for
which I was profoundly grateful, for, set it down to breeding or a
natural recognition of other people's rights, I would have found it most
difficult to turn the knob of a closet door, inspection of which had not
been offered me.

But finding it open, I gave it just a little pull and found--well, it
was a surprise, much more so than the sight of a skeleton would have
been--that the whole interior was taken up by a small circular staircase
such as you find in public libraries where the books are piled up in
tiers. It stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and dark as it was I
thought I detected the outlines of a trap-door by means of which
communication was established with the room above. Anxious to be
convinced of this, I consulted with myself as to what a detective would
do in my place. The answer came readily enough: "Mount the stairs and
feel for yourself whether there is a lock there." But my delicacy
or--shall I acknowledge it for once?--an instinct of timidity seemed to
restrain me, till a remembrance of Mr. Gryce's sarcastic look which I
had seen honoring lesser occasions than these, came to nerve me, and I
put foot on the stairs which had last been trod--by whom, sha