Somebody had lowered the Venetian
blinds as a conventional intimation to the outside world that the house
was one of mourning, and the room was almost dark. For nearly a minute
Rolfe stood in silence, his hand resting on the knob of the door he had
closed behind him. Gradually the outline of the room and the objects
within it began to reveal themselves in shadowy shape as his eyes became
accustomed to the dim light. He had a growing impression of a big lofty
room, with heavy furniture, and a huddled up figure lying on a couch at
the end furthest from the window and deepest in shadow.
He stepped across to the window and gently raised one of the blinds. The
light of an August sun penetrated through the screen of trees in front of
the house and revealed the interior of the room more clearly. Rolfe was
amazed at its size. From the window to the couch at the other end of the
room, where the body lay, was nearly thirty feet. Glancing down the
apartment, he noticed that it was really two rooms, divided in the middle
by folding doors. These doors folded neatly into a slightly protruding
ridge or arch almost opposite the door by which he had entered, and were
screened from observation by heavy damask curtains, which drooped over
the archway slightly into the room.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50