"Yes," she assented, "now you shall see him," and with wonderful grace, she glided out of the verandah, and across an antechamber, pushed open a door into a large dim apartment,—and there abandoned him.
Mallender stood for a moment gazing vaguely about. In size and shape the room was a counterpart of the familiar drawing-room next door (the houses were precisely alike) only there, was brilliant electric light in the French chandeliers,—here, on a table, two candles in old-fashioned shades merely made the darkness visible. The room appeared to be almost entirely empty of furniture, and saturated with novel and aromatic odours; but as the visitor's eyes became accustomed to the twilight, he gradually made out some shadowy divans along the wall, a few rugs on the floor, and—he gave a slight start, as he discerned an arm-chair, and an outline of the spare stooping figure of a man in Europe dress. As he continued to stare, he noticed that he was wearing a black skull cap, a short black beard, and a pair of black-rimmed spectacles.
"You have arrived, Geoffrey Mallender!" said the figure in a harsh but muffled voice.
"Yes, I'm here," he answered boldly.
"Grope," continued the bearded man, "and you will find an arm-chair, draw it up to the table, and sit down."
Geoffrey obeyed without a word.
"So I have found you. You never found me," continued the mysterious individual, and he chuckled audibly.
"Do you mean to say that you are my Uncle?" enquired Mallender brusquely.
"I am."
"How am I to be sure of that? You see, I've been let in pretty often."