“With a growing sense of uneasiness I pushed my chair back.  It caught the hearthrug, and in my efforts to disentangle it the screen fell over with a crash and in the flickering light of the fire I saw the face of the creature opposite.  With a sharp catch of my breath I left my chair and stood with clenched fists beside it.  Man or beast, which was it?  The flame leaped up and then went out, and in the mere red glow of the fire it looked more devilish than before.

“For a few moments we regarded each other in silence; then the door opened and the old man returned.  He stood aghast as he saw the warm firelight, and then approaching the table mechanically put down a couple of bottles.

“‘I beg your pardon,’ said I, reassured by his presence, ’but I have accidentally overturned the screen.  Allow me to replace it.’

“‘No,’ said the old man, gently, ’let it be.

“‘We have had enough of the dark.  I’ll give you a light.’

“He struck a match and slowly lit the candles.  Then—­I saw that the man opposite had but the remnant of a face, a gaunt wolfish face in which one unquenched eye, the sole remaining feature, still glittered.  I was greatly moved, some suspicion of the truth occurring to me.

“‘My son was injured some years ago in a burning house,’ said the old man.  ’Since then we have lived a very retired life.  When you came to the door we—­’ his voice trembled, ‘that is-my son—–­’

“’I thought,” said the son simply, ’that it would be better for me not to come to the dinner-table.  But it happens to be my birthday, and my father would not hear of my dining alone, so we hit upon this foolish plan of dining in the dark.  I’m sorry I startled you.’

“‘I am sorry,’ said I, as I reached across the table and gripped his hand, ’that I am such a fool; but it was only in the dark that you startled me.’

“From a faint tinge in the old man’s cheek and a certain pleasant softening of the poor solitary eye in front of me I secretly congratulated myself upon this last remark.

“‘We never see a friend,’ said the old man, apologetically, ’and the temptation to have company was too much for us.  Besides, I don’t know what else you could have done.’

“‘Nothing else half so good, I’m sure,’ said I.

“‘Come,’ said my host, with almost a sprightly air.  ’Now we know each other, draw our chairs to the fire and let’s keep this birthday in a proper fashion.’

“He drew a small table to the fire for the glasses and produced a box of cigars, and placing a chair for the old servant, sternly bade her to sit down and drink.  If the talk was not sparkling, it did not lack for vivacity, and we were soon as merry a party as I have ever seen.  The night wore on so rapidly that we could hardly believe our ears when in a lull in the conversation a clock in the hall struck twelve.

“‘A last toast before we retire,’ said my host, pitching the end of his cigar into the fire and turning to the small table.