CHAPTER III.
THE ARCADIA MIXTURE.
[Illustration] Darkness comes, and with it the porter to light our stair gas.

He vanishes into his box.

Already the inn is so quiet that the tap of a pipe on a window-sill startles all the sparrows in the quadrangle.

The men on my stair emerged from their holes.

Scrymgeour, in a dressing-gown, pushes open the door of the boudoir on the first floor, and climbs lazily.