Ah, you're one that has wasted your gifts, you have! You might
have aimed high, if you had joined the fancy."
"You see, Watson, if all else fails me I have still one of the
scientific professions open to me," said Holmes, laughing. "Our
friend won't keep us out in the cold now, I am sure."
"In you come, sir, in you come,--you and your friends," he
answered. "Very sorry, Mr. Thaddeus, but orders are very strict.
Had to be certain of your friends before I let them in."
Inside, a gravel path wound through desolate grounds to a huge
clump of a house, square and prosaic, all plunged in shadow save
where a moonbeam struck one corner and glimmered in a garret
window. The vast size of the building, with its gloom and its
deathly silence, struck a chill to the heart. Even Thaddeus
Sholto seemed ill at ease, and the lantern quivered and rattled
in his hand.
"I cannot understand it," he said. "There must be some mistake.
I distinctly told Bartholomew that we should be here, and yet
there is no light in his window. I do not know what to make of
it."
"Does he always guard the premises in this way?" asked Holmes.
"Yes; he has followed my father's custom. He was the favorite
son, you know, and I sometimes think that my father may have told
him more than he ever told me.
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