it an easy matter to find the gate. But as I laid hand on its latch, I
had a surprise.

A line of paving-stones led from the gate to the heavy porch; and
along the wet surface of these fell a streak of light from the front
door, which stood ajar.

That a door should remain six inches open on such a night was
astonishing enough, until I entered the court and found it was as
still as a room, owing to the high wall, and doubtless the porch gave
additional protection. But looking up and assuring myself that all the
rest of _façade_ was black as ink, I wondered at the inmates who could
be thus careless of their property.

It was here that my professional instincts received the first jog.
Abating the sound of my feet on the paving-stones, I went up to the
door and pushed it softly. It opened without noise.

I stepped into a fair-sized hall of modern build, paved with red
tiles and lit with a small hanging lamp. To right and left were doors
leading to the ground-floor rooms. Along the wall by my shoulder ran
a line of pegs, on which hung half a dozen hats and great coats, every
one of clerical shape; and full in front of me a broad staircase ran
up, with a staring Brussels carpet, the colors and pattern of which I
can recall as well as to-day's breakfast. Under this staircase was
set a stand full of walking-sticks, and a table littered with gloves,
brushes, a hand-bell, a riding-crop, one or two dog-whistles, and a
bed-room candle, with tinder-box beside it. This, with one notable
exception, was all the furniture.