Somerset had but a glimpse of him in passing; he was soon shut into
the back drawing-room; the other men departed; silence redescended
on the house; and had not the nurse appeared a little before half-
past ten, and, with a strong brogue, asked if there were a decent
public-house in the neighbourhood, Somerset might have still
supposed himself to be alone in the Superfluous Mansion.
Day followed day; and still the young man had never come by speech
or sight of his mysterious lodger. The doors of the drawing-room
flat were never open; and although Somerset could hear him moving
to and fro, the tall man had never quitted the privacy of his
apartments. Visitors, indeed, arrived; sometimes in the dusk,
sometimes at intempestuous hours of night or morning; men, for the
most part; some meanly attired, some decently; some loud, some
cringing; and yet all, in the eyes of Somerset, displeasing. A
certain air of fear and secrecy was common to them all; they were
all voluble, he thought, and ill at ease; even the military
gentleman proved, on a closer inspection, to be no gentleman at
all; and as for the doctor who attended the sick man, his manners
were not suggestive of a university career.
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