One night, I met him in the hall at North Villa, about to leave the
house at the same time that I was, after a business-consultation in
private with Mr. Sherwin. We went out together. The sky was unusually
black; the night atmosphere unusually oppressive and still. The roll
of distant thunder sounded faint and dreary all about us. The sheet
lightning, flashing quick and low in the horizon, made the dark
firmament look like a thick veil, rising and falling incessantly, over
a heaven of dazzling light behind it. Such few foot-passengers as
passed us, passed running--for heavy, warning drops were falling
already from the sky. We quickened our pace; but before we had walked
more than two hundred yards, the rain came down, furious and
drenching; and the thunder began to peal fearfully, right over our
heads.

"My house is close by," said my companion, just as quietly and
deliberately as usual--"pray step in, Sir, until the storm is over."

I followed him down a bye street; he opened a door with his own key;
and the next instant I was sheltered under Mr. Mannion's roof.

He led me at once into a room on the ground floor. The fire was
blazing in the grate; an arm-chair, with a reading easel attached, was
placed by it; the lamp was ready lit; the tea-things were placed on
the table; the dark, thick curtains were drawn close over the window;
and, as if to complete the picture of comfort before me, a large black
cat lay on the rug, basking luxuriously in the heat of the fire. While
Mr. Mannion went out to give some directions, as he said, to his
servant, I had an opportunity of examining the apartment more in
detail. To study the appearance of a man's dwelling-room, is very
often nearly equivalent to studying his own character.