I'd rather go to Captain Alec by myself."
Left alone in the cottage, now so quiet and so peaceful, Beaumaroy mused
a while as he smoked his pipe. Then he turned to his labors--his final
night of work in the Tower. There was much to do, very much to do; he
achieved his task towards morning. When day dawned, there was nothing but
water in the water-butt, and in the Tower no furnishings were visible
save three chairs--a high carved one by the fireplace, and two much
smaller on the little platform under the window. The faded old red carpet
on the floor was the only attempt at decoration. And in still one thing
more the Tower was different from what it had been, Beaumaroy contented
himself with pasting brown paper over the pane on which Mike had
operated. He did not replace the matchboarding over the window, but
stowed it away in the coal-shed. The place was horribly in need of
sunshine and fresh air--and the old gentleman was no longer alive to fear
the draught!
When the undertaker came up to the cottage that afternoon, he glanced
from the parlor, through the open door, into the Tower.
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