the lighted hall. And Rattray was once more seated at his table, a little company of men around him.
I crept nearer, and my heart stopped. Was I delirious, or raving mad with wine? Or had the sea given up its dead?
CHAPTER XI
I LIVE AGAIN
Squire Rattray, as I say, was seated at the head of his table, where the broken meats still lay as he and I had left them; his fingers, I remember, were playing with a crust, and his eyes fixed upon a distant door, as he leant back in his chair. Behind him
for my dressing-gown and slippers. To find them, however, I had to light my candles, when the first thing I saw was the havoc my marauder had left behind him. The mirror was cracked across; the dressing-table had lost a leg; and both lay flat, with my brushes and shaving-table, and the foolish toilet