The House of a Thousand Candles
Page 72"Bates!"-I found him busy replenishing the candlesticks
in the library,-it seemed to me that he was always
poking about with an armful of candles,-"there
are a good many queer things in this world, but I guess
you're one of the queerest. I don't mind telling you
that there are times when I think you a thoroughly bad
lot, and then again I question my judgment and don't
give you credit for being much more than a doddering
fool."
He was standing on a ladder beneath the great crystal
chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling,
and looked down upon me with that patient injury
that is so appealing in a dog-in, say, the eyes of an
Irish setter, when you accidentally step on his tail.
man, it arouses the direst homicidal feelings of which
I am capable.
"Yes, Mr. Glenarm," he replied humbly.
"Now, I want you to grasp this idea that I'm going
to dig into this old shell top and bottom; I'm going
to blow it up with dynamite, if I please; and if I catch
you spying on me or reporting my doings to my enemies,
or engaging in any questionable performances
whatever, I'll hang you between the posts out there in
the school-wall-do you understand?-so that the sweet
Sisters of St. Agatha and the dear little school-girls
and the chaplain and all the rest will shudder through
all their lives at the very thought of you."
same he would have used if I had asked him to pass
me the matches, and under my breath I consigned him
to the harshest tortures of the fiery pit.
"Now, as to Morgan-"
"Yes, sir."
"What possible business do you suppose he has with
Mr. Pickering?" I demanded.
"Why, sir, that's clear enough. Mr. Pickering owns
a house up the lake,-he got it through your grandfather.
Morgan has the care of it, sir."
"Very plausible, indeed!"-and I sent him off to his
work.
After luncheon I went below and directly to the end
eye they were all alike, being of cement, and substantial
enough. Through the area window I saw the solid earth
and snow; surely there was little here to base hope upon,
and my wonder grew at the ease with which Morgan
had vanished through a barred window and into frozen
ground.
The walls at the end of the passage were as solid as
rock, and they responded dully to the stroke of the
hammer. I sounded them on both sides, retracing my
steps to the stairway, becoming more and more impatient
at my ill-luck or stupidity. There was every reason
why I should know my own house, and yet a stranger
and an outlaw ran through it with amazing daring.