I heard a spilt drop
or two fall on the carpet, and this was all the evidence he showed of
discomposure.
Setting the glass back, he felt in his breast-pocket for a
handkerchief, failed to find one, and rubbed his hands together to get
the liquor off his fingers.
"You startled me," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, turning his eyes
upon me, as he lifted his glass again, and emptied it. "How did you
find your way in?"
"By the front door," said I, wondering at his unconcern.
He nodded his head slowly.
"Ah! yes; I forgot to lock it. You came to steal, I suppose?"
"I came because I lost my way. I've been travelling this God-forsaken
moor since dusk--"
"With your boots in your hand," he put in quietly.
"I took them off out of respect to the yellow dog you keep."
"He lies in a very natural attitude--eh?"
"You don't tell me he was _stuffed_!"
The old man's eyes beamed a contemptuous pity.
"You are indifferently sharp, my dear sir, for a housebreaker. Come
in. Set down those convicting boots, and don't drip pools of water
in the very doorway, of all places. If I must entertain a burglar, I
prefer him tidy."
He walked to the fire, picked up a poker, and knocked the coals into
a blaze. This done, he turned round on me with the poker still in his
hand.
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