As I turned the handle I wondered idly what kind of sallow Turk or bulging-necked German we should find inside.
It was a pleasant room, with a polished wood floor and a big fire burning on the hearth.

Beside the fire a man lay on a couch, with a little table drawn up beside him.

On that table was a small glass of milk and a number of Patience cards spread in rows.
I stared blankly at the spectacle, till I saw a second figure.

It was the man in the skin-cap, the leader of the dancing maniacs.

Both Peter and I backed sharply at the sight and then stood stock still.
For the dancer crossed the room in two strides and gripped both of my hands.
'Dick, old man,' he cried, 'I'm most awfully glad to see you again!'.