s gone wrong with the fuse," said Eustace, as
he went to the switches by the door. Then he stopped. There was a noise
at the other end of the room, as if something was crawling up the iron
corkscrew stair. "If it's gone into the gallery," he said, "well and
good." He hastily turned on the lights, crossed the room, and climbed up
the stair. But he could see nothing. His grandfather had placed a little
gate at the top of the stair, so that children could run and romp in the
gallery without fear of accident. This Eustace closed, and having
considerably narrowed the circle of his search, returned to his desk by
the fire.

How gloomy the library was! There was no sense of intimacy about the
room. The few busts that an eighteenth-century Borlsover had brought
back from the grand tour, might have been in keeping in the old library.
Here they seemed out of place. They made the room feel cold, in spite of
the heavy red damask curtains and great gilt cornices.

With a crash two heavy books fell from the gallery to the floor; then,
as Borlsover looked, another and yet another.

"Very well; you'll starve for this, my beauty!" he said. "We'll do some
little experiments on the metabolism of rats deprived of water. Go on!
Chuck them down! I think I've got the upper hand." He turned once again
to his correspondence. The letter was from the family solicitor. It
spoke of his uncle's death and of the valuable collection of books that
had been left to him in the will.

"There was one request," he read, "which certainly came as a surprise to
me. As you know, Mr. Adrian Borlsover had left instructions that his
body was to be buried in as simple a manner as possible at Eastbourne.
He expressed a desire that there should be neither wreaths nor flowers
of any kind, and hoped that his friends and relatives would not consider
it necessary to wear mourning. The day before his death we received a
letter canceling these instructions. He wished his body to be embalmed
(he gave us the address of the man we were to employ--Pennifer, Ludgate
Hill), with orders that his right hand was to be sent to you, stating
that it was at your special request. The other arrangements as to the
funeral remained unaltered."

"Good Lord!" said Eustace; "what in the world was the old boy driving
at? And what in the name of all that's holy is that?"

Someone was in the gallery. Someone had pulled the cord attached to one
of the blinds, and it had rolled up with a sna