"That'll do," he broke in; "no need to speak names. Show the gentleman to Mr. Curwen."
Mary Tyson stood aside from the door. I stepped into the hall.
"You'll find him in the room," she said with a curt nod towards a door facing me.
I crossed to it and rapped on the panels, but got no answer whatsoever. It is true I could hear a voice within, but the voice seemed to be declaiming a speech. I rapped again.
"Oh, the dainty knuckles!" cried Mary; and pushing roughly past me she banged upon the door with a great fist like a ham and threw it open without further ceremony. The voice ceased from its declamation. I entered the room. It was very dark, being panelled all about with book-cases and the ceiling very low. A single lamp glimmered on a table in the centre of the carpet An old gentleman rose from before a great folio spread out upon the table.
"What is it, Mary?" he asked in a tone of gentle annoyance. "You interrupt me."
"A visitor, he says," replied Mary, "though——"
The hostility of her eyes and a great heave of her shoulders filled up the gap.
"A visitor!" said the old gentleman, his voice changing on the instant to an eager politeness. "A visitor is always welcome at Applegarth at whatever hour he comes."
I heard not so much a sigh as a snort behind me, and the door was slammed. The old gentleman advanced a few steps towards me and then came to a sudden stop. I was neither hurt nor surprised at his evident disappointment and perplexity, for Mary's behaviour had shown me pretty clearly what sort of a picture I made.