"Take me to his room and I'll tell you."
Without another word he led me to the room I used to call mine, I feeling a kind of shiver as I stood within the walls of the old house.
At length we were alone, but it was dark there; we could scarcely see each other's faces.
"Get a light, Peter," I said.
He hobbled away, and soon returned with a candle, revealing the furniture of the room just as I left it years before.
"No one has slept here since Mr. Roger left," said Peter tremulously. "I don't think that anyone dare that knew him, and certainly no one should with my consent."
"No one but me, Peter," I said.
"What do you mean? Who are you, and—and when did you see Mr. Roger? Tell me quickly."
"Peter," I said, "does nothing tell you? Hold the light to my face and then think. Have you never seen me before?"
The old man held the candle as I had desired him, and looked steadily at me, but there was no flash of recognition, no look of joyful surprise.