Everyone turned round. Faull rose to welcome the late arrivals.
Backhouse also stood up, and stared hard at them.

The two strangers remained standing by the door, which was closed
quietly behind them. They seemed to be waiting for the mild
sensation caused by their appearance to subside before advancing into
the room. Maskull was a kind of giant, but of broader and more
robust physique than most giants. He wore a full beard. His
features were thick and heavy, coarsely modelled, like those of a
wooden carving; but his eyes, small and black, sparkled with the
fires of intelligence and audacity. His hair was short, black, and
bristling. Nightspore was of middle height, but so tough-looking
that he appeared to be trained out of all human frailties and
susceptibilities. His hairless face seemed consumed by an intense
spiritual hunger, and his eyes were wild and distant. Both men were
dressed in tweeds.

Before any words were spoken, a loud and terrible crash of falling
masonry caused the assembled party to start up from their chairs in
consternation. It sounded as if the entire upper part of the
building had collapsed. Faull sprang to the door, and called to the
servant to say what was happening. The man had to be questioned
twice before he gathered what was required of him. He said he had
heard nothing. In obedience to his master's order, he went upstairs.
Nothing, however, was amiss there, neither had the maids heard
anything.

In the meantime Backhouse, who almost alone of those assembled had
preserved his sangfroid, went straight up to Nightspore, who stood