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“_All_ over it?” he asked, with emphasis, and he looked at me very hard.
“I think so. I kept on hoping that I should find someone.”
“Did you enter _all_ the rooms?” he asked, with the same intent gaze.
“Well, all that I could enter.”
“Oh, then you _did_ notice it!” said he, and he shrugged his shoulderswith the air of a man who makes the best of a bad job.
“Notice what?”
“Why, the door with the seal on it.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Weren’t you curious to know what was in it?”
“Well, it did strike me as unusual.”
“Do you think you could go on living alone in this house, year afteryear, just longing all the time to know what is at the other side ofthat door, and yet not looking?”
“Do you mean to say,” I cried, “that you don’t know yourself?”
“No more than you do.”
“Then why don’t you look?”
“I mustn’t,” said he.
He spoke in a constrained way, and I saw that I had blundered on to somedelicate ground. I don’t know that I am mo
re inquisitive than myneighbours, but there certainly was something in the situation whichappealed very strongly to my curiosity. However, my last excuse forremaining in the house was gone now that my companion had recovered hissenses. I rose to go.
“Are you in a hurry?” he asked.
“No; I have nothing to do.”
“Well, I should be very glad if you would stay with me a little. Thefact is that I live a very retired and secluded life here. I don’tsuppose there is a man in London who leads such a life as I do. It isquite unusual for me to have any one to talk with.”
I looked round at the little room, scantily furnished, with a sofa-bedat one side. Then I thought of the great, bare house, and the sinisterdoor with the discoloured red seal upon it. There was something queerand grotesque in the situation, which made me long to know a littlemore. Perhaps I should, if I waited. I told him that I should be veryhappy.
“You will find the spirits and a siphon upon the side table. You mustforgive me if I cannot act as host, but I can’t get across the room.Those are cigars in the tray there. I’ll take one myself, I think. Andso you are a solicitor, Mr. Alder?”
“Yes.”
“And I am nothing. I am that most helpless of living creatures, the sonof a millionaire. I was brought up with the expectation of great wealth;and here I am, a poor man, without any profession at all. And then, onthe top of it all, I am left with this great mansion on my hands, whichI cannot possibly keep up. Isn’t it an absurd situation? For me to usethis as my dwelling is like a coster drawing his barrow with athoroughbred. A donkey would be more useful to him, and a cottage tome.”
“But why not sell the house?” I asked.
“I mustn’t.”
“Let it, then?”
“No, I mustn’t do that either.”
I looked puzzled, and my companion smiled.
“I’ll tell you how it is, if it won’t bore you,” said he.
