The rooms were swept and garnished, the silence and loneliness seeming only intensified by the brilliant light and empty magnificence.
Livingstone felt like a man in a dream from which he could not awake.

He turned and made his way back to the outer door.

As he did so he caught sight of a single figure at the far end of one of the big rooms.

It looked like Wright,--the husband of Mrs.Wright to whom Livingstone had sent his charity-subscription a few hours before.

He had on his overcoat and must have just come in.