But I had no time to finish my sentence. He struck at me with both
hands like an angry cat, and, springing back into the room, he slammed
the door with a crash in my face.

The swiftness of his movements and the malignity of his gesture were in
such singular contrast with his appearance that I was struck speechless
with surprise. But as I stood there with the door in front of me I was
a witness to something which filled me with even greater astonishment.

I have already said that the cottage was in the last stage of disrepair.
Amidst the many seams and cracks through which the light was breaking
there was one along the whole of the hinge side of the door, which gave
me from where I was standing a view of the further end of the room, at
which the fire was burning. As I gazed then I saw this man reappear in
front of the fire, fumbling furiously with both his hands in his bosom,
and then with a spring he disappeared up the chimney, so that I could
only see his shoes and half of his black calves as he stood upon the
brickwork at the side of the grate. In an instant he was down again and
back at the door.

'Who are you?' he cried, in a voice which seemed to me to be thrilling
with some strong emotion.

'I am a traveller, and have lost my way.' There was a pause as if he
were thinking what course he should pursue.

'You will find little here to tempt you to stay,' said he at last.

'I am weary and spent, sir; and surely you will not refuse me shelter.
I have been wandering for hours in the salt-marsh.'