"If you'll come this way, Mr. Garvey will see you presently," said the
Jew gruffly, crossing the floor and shielding the taper with a bony
hand. He never once raised his eyes above the level of the visitor's
waistcoat, and, to Shorthouse, he somehow suggested a figure from the
dead rather than a man of flesh and blood. The hall smelt decidedly ill.
All the more surprising, then, was the scene that met his eyes when the
Jew opened the door at the further end and he entered a room brilliantly
lit with swinging lamps and furnished with a degree of taste and comfort
that amounted to luxury. The walls were lined with handsomely bound
books, and armchairs were arranged round a large mahogany desk in the
middle of the room. A bright fire burned in the grate and neatly framed
photographs of men and women stood on the mantelpiece on either side of
an elaborately carved clock. French windows that opened like doors were
partially concealed by warm red curtains, and on a sideboard against the
wall stood decanters and glasses, with several boxes of cigars piled on
top of one another.
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