And lo! on
the window-sill stood a plate, a cup and saucer, a knife, a fork, a
spoon--all of them manifestly new-washed. Goldthorpe affected not to see
these objects; he averted his face to hide an involuntary smile.
'I must light a candle,' said Mr. Spicer. 'The staircase is quite dark.'
A candle stood ready, with a box of matches, on the rusty cooking-stove. No
fire had burned in the grate for many a long day; of that the visitor
assured himself. Save the objects on the window-sill, no evidence of human
occupation was discoverable. Having struck a light, Mr. Spicer advanced. In
the front passage, on the stairs, on the landing, every angle and every
projection had its drapery of cobwebs. The stuffy, musty air smelt of
cobwebs; so, at all events, did Goldthorpe explain to himself a peculiar
odour which he seemed never to have smelt. It was the same in the two rooms
on the first floor. Through the boarded windows of that in front penetrated
a few thin rays from the golden sky; they gleamed upon dust and web, on
faded, torn wall-paper and a fireplace in ruins.
'I shouldn't recommend you to take either of _these_ rooms,' said Mr.
Spicer, looking nervously at his companion.
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