evening was colder than might have been expected in April, and a heavy
wind was blowing with such rapidly-increasing strength that there was
every promise of a storm during the night. For a few minutes after his
entrance the noise of the rats ceased; but so soon as they became
accustomed to his presence they began again. He was glad to hear them,
for he felt once more the feeling of companionship in their noise, and
his mind ran back to the strange fact that they only ceased to manifest
themselves when that other--the great rat with the baleful eyes--came
upon the scene. The reading-lamp only was lit and its green shade kept
the ceiling and the upper part of the room in darkness, so that the
cheerful light from the hearth spreading over the floor and shining on
the white cloth laid over the end of the table was warm and cheery.
Malcolmson sat down to his dinner with a good appetite and a buoyant
spirit. After his dinner and a cigarette he sat steadily down to work,
determined not to let anything disturb him, for he remembered his
promise to the doctor, and made up his mind to make the best of the time
at his disposal.

For an hour or so he worked all right, and then his thoughts began to
wander from his books. The actual circumstances around him, the calls on
his physical attention, and his nervous susceptibility were not to be
denied. By this time the wind had become a gale, and the gale a storm.
The old house, solid though it was, seemed to shake to its foundations,
and the storm roared and raged through its many chimneys and its queer
old gables, producing strange, unearthly sounds in the empty rooms and
corridors. Even the great alarm bell on the roof must have felt the
force of the wind, for the rope rose and fell slightly, as though the
bell were moved a little from time to time and the limber rope fell on
the oak floor with a hard and hollow sound.