They drove out of the vault into a clear space and stopped before an
immensely long but low-built house which seemed to ramble round a stone
court. At first Mary thought that there were no lights at all in the
windows, but as she got out of the carriage she saw that one room in a
corner up-stairs showed a dull glow.

The entrance door was a huge one made of massive, curiously shaped
panels of oak studded with big iron nails and bound with great iron
bars. It opened into an enormous hall, which was so dimly lighted that
the faces in the portraits on the walls and the figures in the suits of
armor made Mary feel that she did not want to look at them. As she stood
on the stone floor she looked a very small, odd little black figure, and
she felt as small and lost and odd as she looked.

A neat, thin old man stood near the manservant who opened the door for
them.

"You are to take her to her room," he said in a husky voice. "He doesn't
want to see her. He's going to London in the morning."

"Very well, Mr. Pitcher," Mrs. Medlock answered. "So long as I know
what's expected of me, I can manage."

"What's expected of you, Mrs. Medlock," Mr. Pitcher said, "is that you
make sure that he's not disturbed and that he doesn't see what he
doesn't want to see."

And then Mary Lennox was led up a broad staircase and down a long
corridor and up a short flight of steps and through another corridor and
another, until a door opened in a wall and she found herself in a room