Tales of Terror and Mystery by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


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Page 62

"I am sorry," said he, "that Lady Rossiter is not here to help
me to welcome you. By the way, Charles, did Evelyn say anything
about the date of her return?"

"She wished to stay in town for a few more days," said Lord
Linchmere. "You know how ladies' social duties accumulate if they
have been for some time in the country. My sister has many old
friends in London at present."

"Well, she is her own mistress, and I should not wish to alter
her plans, but I shall be glad when I see her again. It is very
lonely here without her company."

"I was afraid that you might find it so, and that was partly
why I ran down. My young friend, Dr. Hamilton, is so much
interested in the subject which you have made your own, that I
thought you would not mind his accompanying me."

"I lead a retired life, Dr. Hamilton, and my aversion to
strangers grows upon me," said our host. "I have sometimes thought
that my nerves are not so good as they were. My travels in search
of beetles in my younger days took me into many malarious and
unhealthy places. But a brother coleopterist like yourself is
always a welcome guest, and I shall be delighted if you will look
over my collection, which I think that I may without exaggeration
describe as the best in Europe."

And so no doubt it was. He had a huge, oaken cabinet arranged
in shallow drawers, and here, neatly ticketed and classified, were
beetles from every corner of the earth, black, brown, blue, green,
and mottled. Every now and then as he swept his hand over the
lines and lines of impaled insects he would catch up some rare
specimen, and, handling it with as much delicacy and reverence as
if it were a precious relic, he would hold forth upon its
peculiarities and the circumstances under which it came into his
possession. It was evidently an unusual thing for him to meet
with a sympathetic listener, and he talked and talked until the
spring evening had deepened into night, and the gong announced that
it was time to dress for dinner. All the time Lord Linchmere said
nothing, but he stood at his brother-in-law's elbow, and I caught
him continually shooting curious little, questioning glances into
his face. And his own features expressed some strong emotion,
apprehension, sympathy, expectation: I seemed to read them all.
I was sure that Lord Linchmere was fearing something and awaiting
something, but what that something might be I could not imagine.

The evening passed quietly but pleasantly, and I should have
been entirely at my ease if it had not been for that continual
sense of tension upon the part of Lord Linchmere. As to our host,
I found that he improved upon acquaintance. He spoke constantly
with affection of his absent wife, and also of his little son, who
had recently been sent to school. The house, he said, was not the
same without them. If it were not for his scientific studies, he
did not know how he could get through the days. After dinner we
smoked for some time in the billiard-room, and finally went early
to bed.

And then it was that, for the first time, the suspicion that
Lord Linchmere was a lunatic crossed my mind. He followed me into
my bedroom, when our host had retired.

"Doctor," said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, "you must
come with me. You must spend the night in my bedroom."

"What do you mean?"

"I prefer not to explain. But this is part of your duties. My
room is close by, and you can return to your own before the servant
calls you in the morning."

"But why?" I asked.

"Because I am nervous of being alone," said he. "That's the
reason, since you must have a reason."

It seemed rank lunacy, but the argument of those twenty pounds
would overcome many objections. I followed him to his room.

"Well," said I, "there's only room for one in that bed."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 17th Jan 2026, 20:45