They were standing in a wide hall-way; on their left was the
open door of a spacious dining-room, and in front the hall ran,
ever narrowing, into a long, dark passage that led apparently to
the top of the kitchen stairs. The broad uncarpeted staircase rose
in a sweep before them, everywhere draped in shadows, except for a
single spot about half-way up where the moonlight came in through
the window and fell on a bright patch on the boards. This shaft of
light shed a faint radiance above and below it, lending to the
objects within its reach a misty outline that was infinitely more
suggestive and ghostly than complete darkness. Filtered moonlight
always seems to paint faces on the surrounding gloom, and as
Shorthouse peered up into the well of darkness and thought of the
countless
