"It is what I came for," I said, and moved toward the door. As I did so,

the old man with the shade rose and staggered round the table, so as to

be closer to the others and to the fire. At the door I turned and

looked at them, and saw they were all close together, dark against the

firelight, staring at me over their shoulders, with an intent expression

on their ancient faces.

Good-night," I said, setting the door open.. "It's your own choosing,"

said the man with the withered arm.

I left the door wide open until the candle was well alight, and then I

shut them in, and walked down the chilly, echoing passage.

I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in

whose charge her ladyship had left the castle, and the deep-toned,

old-fashioned furniture of the housekeeper's room, in which they

foregathered, had affected me curiously in spite of my effort to keep

myself at a matter-of-fact phase. They seemed to belong to another age,

an older age, an age when things spiritual were indeed to be feared,

when common sense was uncommon, an age when omens and witches were

credible, and ghosts beyond denying. Their very existence, thought I, is

spectral; the cut of their clothing, fashions born in dead brains; the

ornaments and conveniences in the room about them even are ghostly--the

thoughts of vanished men, which still haunt rather than participate in

the world of to-day. And the passage I was in, long and shadowy, with

a film of moisture glistening on the wall, was as gaunt and cold as a

The Red Room