showing their guest the finest pictures, even taking him down into the
wonderful cellars. They parted early, but Quest stood, for a few moments
before retiring, gazing about him with an air almost of awe. His great
room, as large as an apartment in an Italian palace, was lit by a dozen
wax candles in silver candlesticks. His four-poster was supported by
pillars of black oak, carved into strange forms, and surmounted by the
Ashleigh coronet and coat of arms. He threw his windows open wide and
stood for a moment looking out across the park, more clearly visible now
by the light of the slowly rising moon. There was scarcely a breeze
stirring, scarcely a sound even from the animal world. Nevertheless,
Quest, too, as reluctantly he made his preparations for retiring for the
night, was conscious of that queer sensation of unimagined and impalpable
danger.




CHAPTER X

LOST IN LONDON


1.

Quest, notwithstanding the unusual nature of his surroundings, slept that
night as only a tired and healthy man can. He was awakened the next
morning by the quiet movements of a man-servant who had brought back his
clothes carefully brushed and pressed. He sat up in bed and discovered a
small china tea equipage by his side.