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           WasthisthepalaceIhadbeencomingto?WasitwithinthesewallsthatIwastoseeknewfriendsandbegingreatfortunes?Why,inmyfather’shouseonEssen-Waterside,thefireandthebrightlightswouldshowamileaway,andthedooropentoabeggar’sknock!

           Icameforwardcautiously,andgivingearasIcame,heardsomeonerattlingwithdishes,andalittledry,eagercoughthatcameinfits;buttherewasnosoundofspeech,andnotadogbarked.

           Thedoor,aswellasIcouldseeitinthedimlight,wasagreatpieceofwoodallstuddedwithnails;andIliftedmyhandwithafaintheartundermyjacket,andknockedonce.ThenIstoodandwaited.Thehousehadfallenintoadeadsilence;awholeminutepassedaway,andnothingstirredbutthebatsoverhead.Iknockedagain,andhearkenedagain.Bythistimemyearshadgrownsoaccustomedtothequiet,thatIcouldhearthetickingoftheclockinsideasitslowlycountedouttheseconds;butwhoeverwasinthathousekeptdeadlystill,andmusthaveheldhisbreath.

           Iwasintwomindswhethertorunaway;butangergottheupperhand,andIbeganinsteadtorainkicksandbuffetsonthedoor,andtoshoutoutaloudforMr.Balfour.Iwasinfullcareer,whenIheardthecoughrightoverhead,andjumpingbackandlookingup,beheldaman’sheadinatallnightcap,andthebellmouthofablunderbuss,atoneofthefirst-storeywindows.

           “It’sloaded,”saidavoice.

           “Ihavecomeherewithaletter,”Isaid,“toMr.EbenezerBalfourofShaws