Although Mr. Henley had no doubt of the truth of Miss Guir's assertion,
the mystery of her life was as real and deeply impressive as ever.
Perhaps it was even more so, as seeming more subtle and far-reaching
than crime itself, if such a thing were possible. Paul was determined
to investigate the secret of the closet stairs; for while Ah Ben's
explanation was plausible to a degree, the blank wall and heavy door
at the bottom filled him with an uncanny fascination, which grew as he
pondered upon them. Exactly what course to pursue he had not decided,
but awaited an opportunity to continue his efforts in earnest. There
were two serious difficulties to contend with; one was the want of
tools, the other the necessity of prosecuting his work in silence.
As upon the previous evening, Dorothy and Mr. Henley dined alone,
although Ah Ben, appearing just before they had finished, partook of
a little dry lettuce and a small cup of coffee. Dorothy, as usual,
ate most sparingly, "scarcely enough," as Paul remarked, "to keep the
parrot alive."
After dinner they went together into the great hall, where Ah Ben
prepared a pipe apiece for himself and his guest.
The logs were piled high upon the hearth, and the cheery blaze lit up
the old pictures with a shimmering lustre, reducing the lamp to a
mere spectral ornament. It was the flickering firelight that made the
men and women on the walls nod at each other, as perhaps they had
done in life.
They seated themselves in the spacious old leather-covered pew; Ah
Ben and Dorothy upon one side, while Paul sat opposite. The men were
soon engaged with their pipes, while Miss Guir had settled herself
upon a pile of cushions in the corner nearest the chimney.
"You have been absent from home to-day, I believe," said Henley to
the old man, by way of opening the conversation, and with the hope of
eliciting an answer which would throw some light upon his habits.
"Yes," Ah Ben replied, blowing a volume of smoke from under his long,
white moustache; "I seldom pass the entire day in this house. There
are few things that give me more pleasure than roaming alone through
the forest. One seems to come in closer touch with first principles.
Nature, Mr. Henley, must be courted to be comprehended."
"I suppose so," answered Paul, not knowing what else to say, and
wondering at the man's odd method of passing the time.
A long silence followed after this, only interrupted at intervals by
guttural mutterings from the parrot, which seemed to be lodged
somewhere in the upper regions of the obscure stairway. When the
clock struck eleven, the bird shrieked out, as upon the previous
night.