He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. The decanter
was sent again upon its rounds; there was a popping of soda-water
bottles; the talk revolved again in its accustomed groove. Harry was in
an instant forgotten by all but Sutch. The lieutenant, although he
prided himself upon his impartial and disinterested study of human
nature, was the kindliest of men. He had more kindliness than
observation by a great deal. Moreover, there were special reasons which
caused him to take an interest in Harry Feversham. He sat for a little
while with the air of a man profoundly disturbed. Then, acting upon an
impulse, he went to the door, opened it noiselessly, as noiselessly
passed out, and, without so much as a click of the latch, closed the
door behind him.
And this is what he saw: Harry Feversham, holding in the centre of the
hall a lighted candle high above his head, and looking up toward the
portraits of the Fevershams as they mounted the walls and were lost in
the darkness of the roof. A muffled sound of voices came from the other
side of the door panels, but the hall itself was silent. Harry stood
remarkably still, and the only thing which moved at all was the yellow
flame of the candle as it flickered apparently in some faint draught.
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