FUR FACTS 291 



figure of a girl, with a death-like pallor on her face, entered and passed 

 without even glancing at us, into the kitchen. For some unassignable 

 reason I felt strangely impressed by the girl's appearance; there was 

 something strikingly familiar in the profile of her face as I saw it 

 when she passed through the room and involuntarily my eyes had 

 followed her retreating steps. My friend, however, gave not the 

 slightest evidence that he had seen her at all and was now amusing 

 himself by blowing smoke rings at the light on the table. He arose 

 presently, and adding more tobacco to his pipe, beckoned me to 

 follow him into the next room. 



He unlocked the heavy oaken door to the room, and after 

 making a light, we entered, closing the door after us. The room 

 in which I now found myself was small, but contained the most 

 elaborate collection of fire-arms, furs, mounted heads, horns, etc., 

 that I had ever seen. Most of the articles were protected by 

 a glass case consisting of a succession of shelves similar to a book case. 

 We spent an hour or more looking over the various articles, my friend 

 telling me stories of certain ones which he seemed to feel were most 

 interesting. There was one case, however, which I noticed and what 

 I saw of it was sufficient to convince me that he did not want it to be 

 spoken of. It contained six guns, four rifles and two shot guns and 

 one of the shot guns I recognized to be the same as the one that was 

 stolen from Jack Haley many years before. 



Once more in the front room, we filled our pipes, and reviewed 

 our plans for the following day. Presently the cook entered and 

 deposited on the table a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of 

 brandy. It was wonderful brandy and we were not long in emptying 

 the bottle. Then the clock struck ten and my friend suggested that 

 we go to bed so as to be up early the next morning. 



The next morning dawned grey and cold, with a drizzling rain. 

 I was dressing myself when Henderly knocked on the door and an- 

 nounced that breakfast was ready. As I passed out into the hall, 

 I heard someone coming down the stairs and looking up, I found 

 facing me the girl who had saved me from being torn to pieces by the 

 dog. I was startled to notice her pale, emaciated appearance, and 

 had I but caught a glimpse of her face as on the evening before it is 

 doubtful if I would have recognized her. For a moment she seemed 

 to hesitate on the stairs, uncertain as to whether she should speak to 

 me or return to her room. 



I managed to say "Good morning," and she replied coldly, without 

 the faintest sign of a smile. 



