“Ah Ben.”
Mr. Henley concluded not to push his investigations any further for the present, taking refuge in the thought that all things come to him who waits. He had no doubt that Ah Ben would come along with the rest.
A sudden turn, and an old house stood before them. It was built of black stones, rough as when dug from the ground more than a century before. At the farther end was a tower with an open belfry, choked in a tangle of vines and bushes, within which the bell was dimly visible through a crust of spiders' webs and birds' nests. Patches of moss and vegetable mold relieved the blackness of the stones, and a venerable ivy plant clung like a rotten fish-net to the wall. It was a weird, yet fascinating picture; for the house, like a rocky cliff, looked as if it had grown where it stood. Parts of the building were crumbling, and decay had laid its hand more or less heavily upon the greater part of the structure. All this in the mellow light of the moon, and under the peculiar circumstances, made a scene which was deeply impressive.
“This is Guir House,” said Dorothy, drawing up before the door. “Now don't tell me how you like it, because you don't know. You must wait until you have seen it by daylight.”
She threw the reins to a stupid-looking servant, who took them as if not quite knowing why he did so. She then made a signal to him with her hands, and jumped lightly to the ground.
“Down, Beelzebub!” called Dorothy to a huge dog that had come out to meet them, while the next instant she was engaged in exchanging signals with the servant, who immediately led the horse away, followed by the dog.
“Why does the boy not speak?” inquired Paul, considerably puzzled by what he had seen.
“Because he is dumb,” answered the girl, leading the way up to the door.
Paul carried his luggage into the porch where he saw that Dorothy's eyes were fixed upon him with that strange quizzo-critical gaze, with lids half closed and head tilted, which he had observed once before, and which he could not help thinking gave her a very aristocratic bearing.
“You should carry one of those long-handled lorgnettes,” he suggested, “when you look that way.”