the secret of the universe.

'Why am I doing this?' he asked himself, while he pushed the window.
'Why have I done this?' he asked himself, as he stood within the immense
and luxurious room.

He gazed round with a swift and timid glance, as a man would who expects
to see that which ought not to be seen. To his left was the fireplace,
with a magnificent mirror over it. On the mantelpiece burned a movable
electric table--lamp, with twin branched lights. He observed the
silk-covered cord lying across the mantelpiece and disappearing over the
further edge; by the side of the lamp was a screwdriver. Exactly in
front of the lamp, on a couple of trestles such as undertakers use, lay
an elm coffin, its head towards the mantelpiece. At the opposite end of
the room was another fireplace and another mirror, with the result that
Hugo saw an endless succession of coffins and corpse-lights, repeated
and repeated, till they were lost in a vague crystal blur, and by every
pair of corpse-lights was a screwdriver.

He stood moveless, and listened, and could detect no faintest sound.
Across the room from the principal window there was a doorway with a
heavy portière; not a fold of the portière stirred. To his right, near
the other window, was a door--the door by which Camilla had entered that
night a month ago; it was shut. His glance searched among the rich
confusion of furniture--fauteuils, occasional tables, sofas, statuary,
vases, cabinets. He peered into every corner of the silent chamber, and
saw nothing that gave a sign of life. He even gazed up guiltily at the
decorated ceiling, as though some Freemason's Eye might be scanning him
from above.