I rubbed the window-pane with my handkerchief and looked out. The
surrounding roof was steep and high. The walls looked soiled and dark. The
windows lined with dust and dirt, and the window-stones were in places
tufted with moss, and grass, and groundsel. An arched doorway had opened
from the house into this darkened square, but it was soiled and dusty; and
the damp weeds that overgrew the quadrangle drooped undisturbed against it.
It was plain that human footsteps tracked it little, and I gazed into that
blind and sinister area with a strange thrill and sinking.
'This is the second floor--there is the enclosed court-yard'--I, as it
were, soliloquised.
'What are you afraid of, Maud? you look as ye'd seen a ghost,' exclaimed
Milly, who came to the window and peeped over my shoulder.
'It reminded me suddenly, Milly, of that frightful business.'
'What business, Maud?--what a plague are ye thinking on?' demanded Milly,
rather amused.
'It was in one of these rooms--maybe this--yes, it certainly _was_
this--for see, the panelling has been pulled off the wall--that Mr. Charke
killed himself.
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