H. B. Marriott Watson,
The Outlaw (Marriott Watson) — I. The Shuttered House
(1900)
“ I threw away my cigar. “Very well,” said I, “I am at your service.” He thanked me, and without further ado led the way through the gate and along a little wintry path to the door of the house beyond. It was a large, ugly building, completely shuttered in front, which I thought remarkable, and a thin thread of light shone from the hall. The door was ajar, and the man pushed it open. A bitter wind with rain came flying up the wretched garden, set the empty branches creaking, and whistled into the house. It was a horrid, melancholy sound. ”
