A Strange Story About Dan Cody

His house had never seemed so enormous to me as did that night when we hunted through a great room for cigarettes. We pushed aside curtains that were like pavilions and felt over innumerable feet of dark wall for electric light switches. Once i tumbled with a sort of splash upon the keys of a ghostly piano. I found the humador on an unfamiliar table with two stale, dry cigarettes inside. Throwing open the french windows of the drawing room, we sat smoking out into the darkness. It was this night that he told me the strange story of his youth with dan cody.