"This is the room I have heard Mr. Thornycroft call his den," said she, quickly.
"It is. The other one is mine and my brother's."
A narrow twisting staircase led to the two rooms above. My lady, twisting up it, turned into one of the two--Richard's bed-chamber. The window looked to the dreary line of coast stretching forward in the distance.
"Who sleeps in the other room?" she asked.
"Hyde. This part of the house is lonely, and I choose to have him within call."
In her amazement to hear him say this--the brave strong man, whom no physical fear could daunt--a thought arose that the superstition obtaining at the Red Court, whatever it might be, was connected with these shut-in-rooms; shut in from within and without. Somehow the feeling was not pleasant to her, and she turned to descend the stairs.
"But, Mr. Richard, why do you sleep here yourself?"
"I would not change my room for another; I am used to it. At one time no one slept here, but my mother grew to think it was not safe at night. She was nervous at the last."
He held the passage-door open, and raised his hat, which he had worn all the while, as she went through it, then shut it with a loud, decisive click.
"A sort of intimation that I am not wanted there," thought she. "He need not fear; there's nothing so pleasant to go for, rather the contrary."