"Yes, sir."
Doubting, wondering, scarcely knowing whether to be fearful or
jubilant, I followed, along a carpeted corridor, and thence, a heavy,
oaken door being unlocked, across a dusty and deserted apartment
apparently intended for a drawing room. From this, through a second
doorway we were led into a small, square, unfurnished room, which I
knew must be situated in the base of the tower. Yet a third door was
unlocked, and:
"Here is the stair, sir," said Pedro.
In Indian file we mounted to the first floor, to find ourselves in a
second, identical room, also stripped of furniture and decorations.
Harley barely glanced out of the northern window, shook his head, and:
"Next floor, Pedro," he directed.
Up we went, our footsteps arousing a cloud of dust from the uncarpeted
stairs, and the sound of our movements echoing in hollow fashion around
the deserted rooms.
Gaining the next floor, Harley, unable any longer to conceal his
excitement, ran to the north window, looked out, and:
"Gentlemen," he said, "my experiment is complete!"
He turned, his back to the window, and faced us in the dusk of the
room.
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