what looks like harveyized steel. You will
wonder when you see it. But as yet I really know only a few rooms,
and am familiar with only one--my own room. The drawing-room--not
the great hall, which is a vast place; the library--a magnificent
one, but in sad disorder--we must get a librarian some day to put it
in trim; and the drawing-room and boudoir and bedroom suite which I
have selected for you, are all fine. But my own room is what suits
me best, though I do not think you would care for it for yourself.
If you do, you shall have it. It was Uncle Roger's own room when he
stayed here; living in it for a few days served to give me more
insight to his character--or rather to his mind--than I could have
otherwise had. It is just the kind of place I like myself; so,
naturally, I understand the other chap who liked it too. It is a
fine big room, not quite within the Castle, but an outlying part of
it. It is not detached, or anything of that sort, but is a sort of
garden-room built on to it. There seems to have been always some
sort of place where it is, for the passages and openings inside seem
to accept or recognize it. It can be shut off if necessary--it would
be in case of attack--by a great slab of steel, just like the door of
a safe, which slides from inside the wall, and can be operated from
either inside or outside--if you know how. That is from my room or
from within the keep. The mechanism is a secret, and no one but
Rooke and I know it. The room opens out through a great French
window--the French window is modern, I take it, and was arranged by
or for Uncle Roger; I think there must have been always a large
opening there, for centuries at least--which opens on a wide terrace
or balcony of white marble, extending right and left. From this a
white marble stair lies straight in front of the window, and leads
down to the garden. The balcony and staircase are quite ancient--of
old Italian work, beautifully carved, and, of course, weather-worn
through centuries. There is just that little tinging of green here
and there which makes all outdoor marble so charming. It is hard to
believe at times that it is a part of a fortified castle, it is so
elegant and free and open. The first glance of it would make a
burglar's heart glad. He would say to himself: "Here is the sort o