He was wild and sentimental.

Only pitiful memories lingered to haunt him: rain and loneliness and the old man's hunger for excitement.
He went at last with a sigh, oppressed by the creak of the banister where Adam had sat, sinister and silent in his wheel-chair, listening to the music.

Memories were crowding thick upon him.

Again and again he wished that he had never opened the door of the sitting room that other night and caught the old man off his guard.

It had left a specter in his mind, horrible in its pathos and intense.