y turned the key. When I came back I found
him sitting up again. He said:

"Go on!"

Accordingly, I told him every detail, even of the slightest which I
could remember, of what had happened from the moment of my arrival at
the house. Of course I said nothing of my feeling towards Margaret,
and spoke only concerning those things already within his own
knowledge. With regard to Corbeck, I simply said that he had brought
back some lamps of which he had been in quest. Then I proceeded to
tell him fully of their loss, and of their re-discovery in the house.

He listened with a self-control which, under the circumstances, was to
me little less than marvellous. It was impassiveness, for at times his
eyes would flash or blaze, and the strong fingers of his uninjured hand
would grip the sheet, pulling it into far-extending wrinkles. This was
most noticeable when I told him of the return of Corbeck, and the
finding of the lamps in the boudoir. At times he spoke, but only a few
words, and as if unconsciously in emotional comment. The mysterious
parts, those which had most puzzled us, seemed to have no special
interest for him; he seemed to know them already. The utmost concern
he showed was when I told him of Daw's shooting. His muttered comment:
"stupid ass!" together with a quick glance across the room at the
injured cabinet, marked the measure of his disgust. As I told him of
his daughter's harrowing anxiety for him, of her unending care and
devotion, of the tender love which she had shown, he seemed much moved.
There was a sort of veiled surprise in his unconscious whisper:

"Margaret! Margaret!"

When I had finished my narration, bringing matters up to the moment
when Miss Trelawny had gone out for her walk--I thought of her as "Miss
Trelawny', not as 'Margaret' now, in the presence of her father--he
remained silent for quite a long time. It was probably two or three
minutes; but it seemed interminable. All at once he turned and said to
me briskly:

"Now tell me all about yourself!" This was something of a floorer; I
felt myself grow red-hot. Mr. Trelawny's eyes were upon me; they were
now calm and inquiring, but never ceasing in their soul-searching
scrutiny. There was just a suspicion of a smile on the mouth which,
though it added to my embarrassment, gave me a certain measure of
relief. I was, however, face to face with difficulty; and the habit of
my life stood me in good stead. I looked him stra