There was a large old-fashioned bureau, an iron safe, half a dozen heavy, leather-backed, oak chairs and some shelves loaded with books.
A waste-paper basket stood under the table, and on the blotting paper upon the desk were some papers, as if they had been left by some one who intended returning within half an hour.
Upon all, table, desk, chairs, bureau, safe, lay the dust scattered by the hand of time, half an inch thick.
Jem took in all the details and then turned to descend.
In another moment the captain held out his hand and helped him into the room.
Jem, at first sullenly, but presently with some interest, described the room.
The captain asked question after question, all the while drawing on a piece of paper. At last when he had got all the information which Jem could possibly give he held out the piece of paper.
"Is that like it?" he said, with a smile.
Jem stared.
"It's the very room!" he exclaimed, wonder struck. "The furniture ain't quite like, but every bit on it shows in the proper place, and, s'welp me, captain, you must be Old Nick!"