And so no doubt it was.  He had a huge, oaken cabinet arranged in shallow drawers, and here, neatly ticketed and classified, were beetles from every corner of the earth, black, brown, blue, green, and mottled.  Every now and then as he swept his hand over the lines and lines of impaled insects he would catch up some rare specimen, and, handling it with as much delicacy and reverence as if it were a precious relic, he would hold forth upon its peculiarities and the circumstances under which it came into his possession.  It was evidently an unusual thing for him to meet with a sympathetic listener, and he talked and talked until the spring evening had deepened into night, and the gong announced that it was time to dress for dinner.  All the time Lord Linchmere said nothing, but he stood at his brother-in-law’s elbow, and I caught him continually shooting curious little, questioning glances into his face.  And his own features expressed some strong emotion, apprehension, sympathy, expectation:  I seemed to read them all.  I was sure that Lord Linchmere was fearing something and awaiting something, but what that something might be I could not imagine.

The evening passed quietly but pleasantly, and I should have been entirely at my ease if it had not been for that continual sense of tension upon the part of Lord Linchmere.  As to our host, I found that he improved upon acquaintance.  He spoke constantly with affection of his absent wife, and also of his little son, who had recently been sent to school.  The house, he said, was not the same without them.  If it were not for his scientific studies, he did not know how he could get through the days.  After dinner we smoked for some time in the billiard-room, and finally went early to bed.

And then it was that, for the first time, the suspicion that Lord Linchmere was a lunatic crossed my mind.  He followed me into my bedroom, when our host had retired.

“Doctor,” said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, “you must come with me.  You must spend the night in my bedroom.”

“What do you mean?”

“I prefer not to explain.  But this is part of your duties.  My room is close by, and you can return to your own before the servant calls you in the morning.”

“But why?” I asked.

“Because I am nervous of being alone,” said he.  “That’s the reason, since you must have a reason.”

It seemed rank lunacy, but the argument of those twenty pounds would overcome many objections.  I followed him to his room.

“Well,” said I, “there’s only room for one in that bed.”

“Only one shall occupy it,” said he.

“And the other?”

“Must remain on watch.”

“Why?” said I.  “One would think you expected to be attacked.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“In that case, why not lock your door?”

“Perhaps I want to be attacked.”

It looked more and more like lunacy.  However, there was nothing for it but to submit.  I shrugged my shoulders and sat down in the arm-chair beside the empty fireplace.