He began to read the magazine; for a while he forgot his surroundings. Then, glancing at his watch again, he saw that it was quarter of eight.
Yet he was still alone. He felt the oppressive gloom of this strange house. He decided to walk about the room.
After a few paces, he was tempted to open one of the doors and look about; but he desisted, and it was well that he did, for at that moment the man with the twisted face suddenly reappeared.
HE approached Harry, and pointed to the nearest door. Harry took this as a signal to enter. He stepped forward alone.
The door opened into a small hallway. There was a door opposite. It was ajar, and rays of light were visible.
Harry pushed the door open, and stepped into a lighted room. Then he stood still in astonishment at his surroundings.
The room was in great disorder. One wall was a huge bookcase, but the shelves were only half filled. The missing volumes were piled about the room; some on chairs and tables; others on the floor, which was also strewn with papers.
Among the books were glass jars, and bits of mechanism. A shelf in the corner was piled with bottles and tubes of varicolored liquids.
A large tiger cat sat upon a window sill, nestled in the midst of papers. The animal seemed to have chosen that place as the only vacant spot.
In the midst of this chaos, behind a desk that was completely covered with books, papers, and odd contrivances, sat the strangest looking man whom Harry Vincent had ever encountered.