errands! Upon this impulse he turned again.

However, as he walked back, the chill frost striking his bare head, he
felt more diffidence and perplexity about his next action than was at
all usual to him. He knew that he had no inclination to investigate the
contents of the box. All the curiosity stirred within him still failed
to create the least desire to pry further; but, on the other hand, he
could not think it right to leave the matter as it was. A strong feeling
of duty commanding him to open the coffin and see that all was right,
and a stout aversion to performing this duty, were the main elements of
his consciousness during the minutes in which he retraced his steps to
the house.

He had set down the lamp on a package just within the baggage-room door,
so that his own room, by which he entered, was pretty dark, save for the
fire showing through the damper of the stove. Trenholme stopped in it
just one moment to listen; then, unwilling to encourage hesitation in
himself, went through the next door. His hand was outstretched to take
the lamp, his purpose was clearly defined--to go to the far corner and
examine the coffin-lid. Hand and thought arrested, he stopped on the
threshold, for the lid was thrown off the coffin, and beside it stood a
figure.

The lamp, which did not throw very much light across the comparatively
large empty room, was so placed that what light there was came directly
in Trenholme's eyes. Afterwards he remembered this, and wondered whether
all that he thought he saw had, in fact, been clearly seen; but at the
moment he thought nothing of the inadequacy of light or of the glare in
his eyes; he only knew that there, in the far corner beside the empty
coffin, stood a white figure--very tall to his vision, very lank, with