Surely he might sit down now, particularly as Mrs.St.
Claire had suggested it, and bringing himself a chair from one of the rooms he sat down in a corner of the hall and was soon in a sound sleep, from which, however, he was roused by the sound of Mr.Tracy's voice, as he came up the stairs, followed by a tall, distinguished-looking man, who wore a Spanish cloak wrapped gracefully around him, and a large, broad-brimmed hat drawn down so closely, as to hide his features from view.
As he reached the upper landing he raised his head, and Harold, who was now wide awake and standing up, caught a glimpse of a thin, pale face and a pair of keen, black eyes, which seemed for an instant to take everything in; than the head was dropped, and the two men disappeared in a room at the far end of the hall.
'I'll bet that's Mr.Arthur.How grand he is! looks just like a pirate in that cloak and hat,' was Harold's mental comment.
Before he had time for further thought, Frank Tracy came from the room and hurried down the stairs to rejoin his guests.
Five minutes later and the door at the end of the long hall which communicated with the back staircase and the rear of the house, opened, and a man whom Harold recognized as the expressman from the station appeared with a huge trunk on his shoulder and a large valise in his hand.

These he deposited in the stranger's room and then went back for more, until four had been carried in.

But when he came with the fifth and largest of all, a hand, white and delicate as a woman's, was thrust from the door-way with an imperative gesture, and a voice with a decided foreign accent exclaimed: 'For heaven's sake, don't bring any more boxes in here.

Why, I am positively stumbling over them now.

Surely there must be some place in the house for my luggage besides my private apartment.' Then the door was shut with a bang, and Harold heard the sliding of the bolt as Arthur Tracy fastened himself in his room..