otherwise it was beautifully kept and dry. By and by, with a
little turn, they came to an incline and another iron gate, held
open for them by a footman. Mr. Fentolin sped up the last few feet
into the great hail, which seemed more imposing than ever by reason
of this unexpected entrance. Hamel, blinking a little, stepped to
his side.

"Welcome!" Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. "Welcome, my friend Mr. Hamel,
to St. David's Hall!"




CHAPTER XIII

During the next half-hour, Hamel was introduced to luxuries to which,
in a general way, he was entirely unaccustomed. One man-servant
was busy preparing his bath in a room leading out of his sleeping
apartment, while another brought him a choice of evening clothes and
superintended his disrobing. Hamel, always observant, studied his
surroundings with keen interest. He found himself in a queerly
mixed atmosphere of luxurious modernity and stately antiquity. His
four-poster, the huge couch at the foot of his bed, and all the
furniture about the room, was of the Queen Anne period. The
bathroom which communicated with his apartment was the latest
triumph of the plumber's art--a room with floor and walls of white
tiles, the bath itself a little sunken and twice the ordinary size.
He dispensed so far as he could with the services of the men and
descended, as soon as he was dressed, into the hall. Meekins was
waiting at the bottom of the stairs, dressed now in somber black.