The mystery
of Fort o' God was about him, warm and subtle, like a strange
spirit, sending through him the thrill of anticipation, a hundred
fancies, little fears. Pierre advanced, still guiding him; then he
stopped, and chuckled softly in the darkness. The distant voice
had stopped singing, and there came in place of it the loud
barking of a dog, an unintelligible sound of a voice, and then
quiet. Jeanne had sprung her surprise.
Pierre led the way to another room.
"This is to be your room, M'sieur," he explained. "Make yourself
comfortable. I have no doubt that the master of Fort o' God will
wish to see you very soon."
He struck a match as he spoke, and lighted a lamp. A moment more
and he was gone.
Philip looked about him. He was in a room fully twenty feet
square, furnished in a manner that drew from him an audible gasp
of astonishment. At one end of the room was a massive mahogany
bed, screened by heavy curtains which were looped back by silken
cords. Near the bed was an old-fashioned mahogany dresser, with a
diamond-shaped mirror, and in front of it a straight-backed chair
adorned with the grotesque carving of an ancient and long-dead
fashion. About him, everywhere, were the evidences of luxury and
of age.
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