She gave me her hand, smiled, and went off, and presently the old woman appeared and conducted me to a chamber in one of the wings. It was more mediæval in appearance than the parlour, but it was remarkably comfortable, and there were hot bottles in the bed.
I believe I fell asleep as soon as my head fairly settled on the pillow, and at once dropped into a sound slumber. I have no idea as to what time it was during the night when I woke suddenly and sharply, to find a man standing at my bedside, and, by the light of a bull’s-eye lantern, looking down on me with a half-shrewd, half-whimsical expression.
II
The Second Stranger
I SAT straight up in bed, blinking at the light and its holder. Half-asleep though I was, I got an impression of my visitor. An ascetic-looking, clean-shaven man, with a big, well-shaped nose, and firm thin lips, which, in unison with a pair of keen, observant eyes, could, as I found out later, assume various expressions, changing from intense disagreeableness to peculiar sweetness. Just then eyes and lips were quite agreeable—in fact, their owner laughed gently.
“All right, young master!” he said, in a voice as sweet and mellow as his smile. “Fall to your sleep again—I only just wanted to see what strange bird we’d got in our roost.”
He laughed again and made for the door. I found my voice.
“Mr. Parslewe?” I asked interrogatively.
“At your service, sir,” he answered, with a sort of mock politeness. “James Parslewe.”
“I hope I’m not——” I began.
“Are you warm enough?” he inquired, suddenly stepping back to the bedside and laying a hand on its coverings. “It’s a gey cold night, and I’m thinking you’re not of these parts.”