But looking up and assuring myself that all the rest of the facade was black as ink, I wondered at the carelessness of the inmates.
It was here that my professional instinct received the first jog.
Abating the sound of my feet on the paving-stones, I went up to the door and pushed it softly.

It opened without noise.
I stepped into a fair-sized hall of modern build, paved with red tiles and lit with a small hanging-lamp.

To right and left were doors leading to the ground-floor rooms.

Along the wall by my shoulder ran a line of pegs, on which hung half-a-dozen hats and great-coats, every one of clerical shape; and full in front of me a broad staircase ran up, with a staring Brussels carpet, the colours and pattern of which I can recall as well as I can to-day's breakfast.

Under this staircase was set a stand full of walking-sticks, and a table littered with gloves, brushes, a hand-bell, a riding-crop, one or two dog-whistles, and a bedroom candle, with tinder-box beside it.