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out）； there was a poor little dark…chinned； meagre man； with a perplexed
brow and a pensive face； stooping low over the matting on the floor； and
picking out with his thumb and forefinger the course of its fibres。 The
afternoon sun was slanting in at the large end…window； and there were
cross patches of light and shade all down the vista； made by the unseen
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windows and the open doors of the little sleeping…cells on either side。 In
about the centre of the perspective； under an arch； regardless of the
pleasant weather； regardless of the solitude； regardless of approaching
footsteps； was the poor little dark…chinned； meagre man； poring over the
matting。 〃What are you doing there？〃 said my conductor； when we came
to him。 He looked up； and pointed to the matting。 〃I wouldn't do that； I
think；〃 said my conductor； kindly； 〃if I were you； I would go and read； or I
would lie down if I felt tired； but I wouldn't do that。〃 The patient
considered a moment； and vacantly answered； 〃No； sir； I won't； I'll … I'll go
and read；〃 and so he lamely shuffled away into one of the little rooms。 I
turned my head before we had gone many paces。 He had already come
out again； and was again poring over the matting； and tracking out its
fibres with his thumb and forefinger。 I stopped to look at him； and it
came into my mind； that probably the course of those fibres as they plaited
in and out； over and under； was the only course of things in the whole
wide world that it was left to him to understand … that his darkening
intellect had narrowed down to the small cleft of light which showed him；
〃This piece was twisted this way； went in here； passed under； came out
there； was carried on away here to the right where I now put my finger on
it； and in this progress of events； the thing was made and came to be here。〃
Then； I wondered whether he looked into the matting； next； to see if it
could show him anything of the process through which HE came to be
there； so strangely poring over it。 Then； I thought how all of us； GOD
help us！ in our different ways are poring over our bits of matting； blindly
enough； and what confusions and mysteries we make in the pattern。 I
had a sadder fellow…feeling with the little dark… chinned； meagre man； by
that time； and I came away。'
Mr。 Idle diverting the conversation to grouse； custards； and bride… cake；
Mr。 Goodchild followed in the same direction。 The bride…cake was as
bilious and indigestible as if a real Bride had cut it； and the dinner it
completed was an admirable performance。
The house was a genuine old house of a very quaint description；
teeming with old carvings； and beams； and panels； and having an excellent
old staircase； with a gallery or upper staircase； cut off from it by a curious
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fence…work of old oak； or of the old Honduras Mahogany wood。 It was；
and is； and will be； for many a long year to come； a remarkably
picturesque house； and a certain grave mystery lurking in the depth of the
old mahogany panels； as if they were so many deep pools of dark water …
such； indeed； as they had been much among when they were trees … gave it
a very mysterious character after nightfall。
When Mr。 Goodchild and Mr。 Idle had first alighted at the door； and
stepped into the sombre； handsome old hall； they had been received by
half…a…dozen noiseless old men in black； all dressed exactly alike； who
glided up the stairs with the obliging landlord and waiter … but without
appearing to get into their way； or to mind whether they did or no … and
who had filed off to the right and left on the old staircase； as the guests
entered their sitting… room。 It was then broad； bright day。 But； Mr。
Goodchild had said； when their door was shut； 'Who on earth are those old
men？' And afterwards； both on going out and coming in； he had noticed
that there were no old men to be seen。
Neither； had the old men； or any one of the old men； reappeared since。
The two friends had passed a night in the house； but had seen nothing
more of the old men。 Mr。 Goodchild； in rambling about it； had looked
along passages； and glanced in at doorways； but had encountered no old
men； neither did it appear that any old men were； by any member of the
establishment； missed or expected。
Another odd circumstance impressed itself on their attention。 It was；
that the door of their sitting…room was never left untouched for a quarter of
an hour。 It was opened with hesitation； opened with confidence； opened
a little way； opened a good way； … always clapped…to again without a word
of explanation。 They were reading； they were writing； they were eating；
they were drinking； they were talking； they were dozing； the door was
always opened at an unexpected moment； and they looked towards it； and
it was clapped… to again； and nobody was to be seen。 When this had
happened fifty times or so； Mr。 Goodchild had said to his companion；
jestingly： 'I begin to think； Tom； there was something wrong with those six
old men。'
Night had come again； and they had been writing for two or three
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hours： writing； in short； a portion of the lazy notes from which these lazy
sheets are taken。 They had left off writing； and glasses were on the table
between them。 The house was closed and quiet。 Around the head of
Thomas Idle； as he lay upon his sofa； hovered light wreaths of fragrant
smoke。 The temples of Francis Goodchild； as he leaned back in his chair；
with his two hands clasped behind his head； and his legs crossed； were
similarly decorated。
They had been discussing several idle subjects of speculation； not
omitting the strange old men； and were still so occupied； when Mr。
Goodchild abruptly changed his attitude to wind up his watch。 They
were just becoming drowsy enough to be stopped in their talk by any such
slight check。 Thomas Idle； who was speaking at the moment； paused and
said； 'How goes it？'
'One；' said Goodchild。
As if he had ordered One old man； and the order were promptly
executed （truly； all orders were so； in that excellent hotel）； the door opened；
and One old man stood there。
He did not come in； but stood with the door in his hand。
'One of the six； Tom； at last！' said Mr。 Goodchild； in a surprised
whisper。 … 'Sir； your pleasure？'
'Sir； YOUR pleasure？' said the One old man。
'I didn't ring。'
'The bell did；' said the One old man。
He said BELL； in a deep； strong way； that would have expressed the
church Bell。
'I had the pleasure； I believe； of seeing you； yesterday？' said
Goodchild。
'I cannot undertake to say for certain；' was the grim reply of the One
old man。
'I think you saw me？ Did you not？'
'Saw YOU？' said the old man。 'O yes； I saw you。 But； I see many
who never see me。'
A chilled； slow； earthy； fixed old man。 A cadaverous old man of
measured speech。 An old man who seemed as unable to wink； as if his
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eyelids had been nailed to his forehead。 An old man whose eyes … two
spots of fire … had no more motion than if they had been connected with
the back of his skull by screws driven through it； and rivetted and bolted
outside； among his grey hair。
The night had turned so cold； to Mr。 Goodch