occupied the farther end of this inside space, the erection
measuring about sixty feet in depth and extending the full width of
the enclosure. That left a little less than thirty feet of court-
yard between this back building and the one facing on the street,
and it was evident that the rear of the original house had been
sheared off bodily to provide for this singular readjustment in the
owner's modus vivendi, only the party walls on either side being
left standing. And these had been extended so as to enflank the
building in the rear.

If I have made my description clear, it now will be understood that
the facade of the original house was nothing more than a shell, a
ten-foot screen whose principal office was to conceal the interior
structure from curious eyes. Describing the latter more
particularly, it should be noted that it was connected with the
original house by a covered passageway of brick running along one
side of the court-yard and communicating with the hallway that led
to the street door. Apparently, the rear building was three stories
in height--I say apparently, for, being entirely destitute of
windows, it was impossible to accurately deduce the number of its
floors. Aesthetically, it made no pretensions, its only
architectural feature being a domed roof of copper and a couple of
chimney-stacks, from one of which a thin streak of vapor ascended.
A chilling and depressing spectacle was that presented by the
"House in the Middle of the Block," as I mentally christened it,
and I speculated upon the strange offices to which it had been
consecrated.

"The Utinam Club," answered my unspoken query. Dr. Magnus had
advanced to my side and stood staring at me through his triple