He knocked, and it opened immediately to admit him. From the signs of respect the valet paid him, he saw that his note had produced a good effect. "Is...the abbe at home?" asked he."Yes; he is at work in his library, but he expects you, sir," replied the valet. The stranger ascended a rough staircase, and before a table, illumined by a lamp whose light was concentrated by a large shade while the rest of the apartment was in partial darkness, he perceived the abbe in a monk's dress, with a cowl on. But it was the look he had when he said it, like it made him feel sick. You know, like whenever he's forced to say I'm his son. "To think that I would ever wish that Herbert T. Gillis were my father! Can my life get any stranger?" A lilting and lovely voice called out, "Oh, Dobie!"Dobie stopped, "I have a feeling my life is about to get stranger." Then a smile broke out on his fresh face, "If people are not acting the way I expect them to act, maybe my luck is about to change."He turned around. More

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