He waited for the shadows to gather.
Light thickened beyond his windows; gradually the outflanking wall and part of a projecting terrace crumbled away in the darkness, as if Night were slowly reducing the castle.

The figures on the tapestry in his room stood out faintly.

The gallery, seen through his open door, barred with black spaces between the mullioned windows, presently became obliterated, as if invaded by a dull smoke from without.

But nothing moved, nothing glimmered.

Really this might become in time very stupid.
He was startled, however, while dressing, to see from his windows that the great banqueting hall was illuminated, but on coming down was amused to find his dinner served on a small table in its oaken solitude lit by the large electric chandelier--for Stukeley Castle under its present lord had all the modern improvements--shining on the tattered banners and glancing mail above him.