Out of it opened his sleeping room--which had no other doorway--likewise oak-panelled, with tall cupboards, not unlike the canopy of a tomb in shape and general appearance.
The hour came, and with it the guests.

The feast began, the cooks streamed up and down bearing relays of dishes from the inn.

Above the table hung a six-armed brass chandelier, and in each of its sockets guttered a tallow candle furnishing light to the company beneath, although outside of its bright ring there was shadow more or less dense.
Towards the end of dinner a portion of the rush wick of one of these candles fell into the brass saucer beneath, causing the molten grease to burn up fiercely.

As it chanced, by the light of this sudden flare, Montalvo, who was sitting opposite to the door, thought that he caught sight of a tall, dark figure gliding along the wall towards the bedroom.
For one instant he saw it, then it was gone.
"_Caramba_, my friend," he said, addressing Dirk, whose back was turned towards the figure, "have you any ghosts in this gloomy old room of yours?
Because, if so, I think I have just seen one." "Ghosts!" answered Dirk, "no, I never heard of any; I do not believe in ghosts.

Take some more of that pasty." Montalvo took some more pasty, and washed it down with a glass of wine.