library. And there It has been all
these hours. And there It is now. I've spoken to the police; but they
wouldn't interfere; and what to do next is more than my poor head can
tell. Don't you go in by yourself, ma'am! You'll be frightened out of
your wits--you will!"

I persisted in entering the house, for all that. Aided by the pony, I
easily solved the mystery of the housekeeper's otherwise unintelligible
narrative. Passing through the dining-room (where the supper-table was
already laid for us), I looked through the half-opened library door.

Yes, there was Miserrimus Dexter, arrayed in his pink jacket, fast
asleep in Benjamin's favorite arm-chair! No coverlet hid his horrible
deformity. Nothing was sacrificed to conventional ideas of propriety
in his extraordinary dress. I could hardly wonder that the poor old
housekeeper trembled from head to foot when she spoke of him.

"Valeria," said Benjamin, pointing to the Portent in the chair. "Which
is it--an Indian idol, or a man?"

I have already described Miserrimus Dexter as possessing the sensitive
ear of a dog: he now allowed that he also slept the light sleep of a
dog. Quietly as Benjamin had spoken, the strange voice aroused him on
the instant. He rubbed his eyes, and smiled as innocently as a waking
child.

"How do you do, Mrs. Valeria?" he said. "I have had a nice little sleep.
You don't know how happy I am to see you again. Who is this?"

He rubbed his eyes once more! and looked at Benjamin. Not knowing what
else to do in this extraordinary emergency, I presented my visitor to
the master of the house.

"Excuse my getting up, sir," said Miserrimus Dexter. "I can't get up--I
have no legs. You look as if you thought I was occupying your chair? If
I am committing an intrusion, be so good as to put your umbrella under
me, and give me a jerk. I shall fall on my hands, and I shan't be
offended with you. I will submit to a tumble and a scolding--but please
don't break my heart by sending me away. That beautiful woman there can
be very cruel sometimes, sir, when the fit takes her. She went away when
I stood in the sorest need of a little talk with her--she went away, and
left me to my loneliness and my suspense. I am a poor deformed wretch,
with a warm heart, and, perhaps, an insatiable curiosity as well.
Insatiable curiosity (have you ever felt it?) is a curse. I bore
it until my brains began to boil in my head; and then I sent for my
gardener, and made him drive