"Did I?" I returned, playing surprise. "Ah yes, you are not dressed," for he was wearing a dressing-gown. "But it is my fault in that I came too early."
And he closed the door.
"Thank you!"
The words were breathed in a whisper from the landing above that on which I stood. I looked up; the staircase was ill-lighted and panelled with a dark mahogany, so that I saw nothing but the outline of a head bent over the balustrade; and even as I looked that outline was withdrawn.
"Not at all," I replied to the empty air.
The door behind me was thrown open.
"What is it, Mr. Clavering?" asked Herbert, and he glanced suspiciously up the stairs.
I, on the contrary, stared down them.
"It is," I answered, "that your staircase is cursedly dark."
"True," says he, and steps to my side. "One cannot see an inch further than is needful;" and he looked down them too.