"Mr.Doidge, your Rector," he announced; "also Mr.Revel--a recent acquaintance of yours, as I understand." "Good evening, Whitmore," said the Rector stepping forward.

"I owe you an apology (I sincerely hope) for the circumstances of this visit, as I certainly discommend Mr.Rogers's method of introducing us." Now, as we two stepped forward, Mr.Whitmore had instantly shot out his right hand to the door--against which Mr.Rogers, however, had planted his foot--with a gesture as if to slam it in our faces.
But the sombre apparition of the Rector seemed to freeze him where he stood--or all of him but his left hand which, grasping the candlestick, slowly and as if involuntarily lifted it above the level of his eyes.

Then, before the Rector had concluded, he lowered it, turned, and walked hastily before us down the passage.
Still without speaking he passed through a door on his right, and we followed him into a sparely furnished room lined with empty book-shelves.

A few books lay scattered on the centre table where also, within the shaded light of a reading lamp, stood a tray with a decanter and a couple of glasses.

Beside this lamp he set down the candle and faced us.