Summary

Portrait of H. B. Marriott Watson 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.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of H. B. Marriott Watson H. B. Marriott Watson The Outlaw (Marriott Watson) — I. The Shuttered House (1900)

In town I put up always at my club, a house convenient to the stations, the theatres, the restaurants, and indeed to all the central seats of business and pleasure. The morning of the 10th dawned, thick with mist and rain; and when I rose it was to throw open the window and peer out upon the dirty sky disconsolately from my lofty bedroom. I had to meet an old friend in some small place near Croydon, and the weather threatened me with an abominable expedition.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of H. B. Marriott Watson H. B. Marriott Watson The Outlaw (Marriott Watson) — I. The Shuttered House (1900)

I heard breathing not my own, and a creak of the stairs echoed in that bare house. I think we both must have advanced very slowly; for, consider—the place was pitch-black, and I at least had no notion of the plan of the house nor of the identity of this invisible creature I was following. But soon a cold stream of wind plied about my shoulders, and, from a dull break in the darkness, I realised hastily that we had come into the hall, and that the door stood open to the garden.
Source: Wikisource

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