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Taking a step back from the chimpanzee； he peered down the staircase。 There was no light except what little filtered in from behind nailed boards and wooden shutters。 Gradually； he began to make out the dim outlines of what seemed to be a reception hall； plete with parqueted oak floor。 Lying across it were exotic skins…zebra； lion； tiger； oryx； cougar。 Ranged about were a number of dark objects； also draped in white sheets。 The paneled walls were lined with old cabinets； covered with rippled glass doors。 On them sat a number of shadowy objects in display cases； each with a brass plate affixed below it。
Yes； it was a collection…Enoch Leng's collection。
Smithback stood； clutching the upper knob of the banister。 Despite the fact that nothing seemed to have been touched in the house for a hundred years； he could feel； deep in his gut； that the house hadn't been empty all this time。 It looked； somehow； tended。 It bespoke the presence of a caretaker。 He should turn around now and get out。
But the silence was profound； and he hesitated。 The collections below were worth a brief look。 The interior of this house and its collections would play a big role in his article。 He would go down for a moment…just a moment…to see what lay beneath some of the sheets。 He took a careful step； and then another 。 。 。 and then he heard a soft click behind him。 He spun around； heart pounding。
At first； nothing looked different。 And then he realized that the door from which he'd entered the hallway must have closed。 He breathed a sigh of relief： a gust of wind had e through the broken window and pushed the door shut。
He continued down the sweeping marble staircase； hand clutching the banister。 At the bottom he paused； screwing up his eyes； peering into the even more pronounced darkness。 The smell of rot and decay seemed stronger here。
His eyes focused on an object in the center of the hall。 One of the sheets had bee so decayed that it had already fallen from the object it covered。 In the darkness it looked strange； misshapen。 Smithback took a step forward； peering intently…and suddenly he realized what it was： the mounted specimen of a small carnivorous dinosaur。 But this dinosaur was extraordinarily well preserved； with fossilized flesh still clinging to the bones； some fossilized internal organs； even huge swaths of fossilized skin。 And covering the skin were the unmistakable outlines of feathers。
Smithback stood； dumbstruck。 It was an astounding specimen； of incalculable value to science。 Recent scientists had theorized that some dinosaurs； even T。 Rex； might have had a covering of feathers。 Here was the proof。 He glanced down： a brass label read Unknown coeloraptor from Red Deer River； Alberta； Canada。
Smithback turned his attention to the cabinets； his eye falling on a series of human skulls。 He moved closer。 The little brass label below them read： Hominidae series from Swartkopje Cave； South Africa。 Smithback could hardly believe his eyes。 He knew enough about hominid fossils to know they were exceedingly rare。 These dozen skulls were some of the most plete he had ever seen。 They would revolutionize hominid studies。
His eye caught a gleam from the next cabinet。 He stepped up to it。 It was crowded with gemstones； and his eye landed on a large； green cut stone the size of a robin's egg。 The label below read Diamond； flawless specimen from Novotney Terra； Siberia； 216 carats； believed to be the only green diamond in existence。 Next to it； in an especially large case； were immense star rubies； sapphires； and more exotic stones with names he could hardly pronounce； winking in the dim recesses…gemstones equal to the finest ones at the New York Museum。 They seemed to have been given star billing among the other exhibits。 On a nearby shelf lay a series of gold crystals； perfectly beautiful； lacy as frost； one as large as a grapefruit。 Below lay rows of tektites； mostly black misshapen things； but some with a beautiful deep green or violet coloring。
Smithback took a step back； his mind wrestling with the richness and variety of the display。 To think all this has stood here； in this ruined house； for a hundred years 。 。 。 He turned away and； on impulse； reached out and twitched off the sheet from a small specimen behind him。 The sheet dissolved； and a strange stuffed animal greeted his eye： a large； tapirlike mammal with a huge muzzle； powerful forelegs； bulbous head； and curving tusks。 It was like nothing he had ever seen before； a freak。 He bent down to make out the dim label： Only known specimen of the Tusked Megalopedus； described by Pliny； thought to be fantastical until this specimen was shot in the Belgian Congo by the English explorer Col。 Sir Henry F。 Moreton； in 1869。
Good lord； thought Smithback： could it be true？ A large mammal； pletely unknown to science？ Or was it a fake？ Suddenly the thought occurred to him： could all these be fakes？ But as he looked around； he realized they were not。 Leng would not have collected fakes； and even in the dim light he could see that these were real。 These were real。 And if the rest of the collections in the house were like this； they constituted possibly the greatest natural history collection in the world。 This was no mere cabinet of curiosities。 It was too dark to take notes； but Smithback knew he wouldn't need notes： what he had seen had been imprinted upon his mind forever。
Only once in a lifetime was a reporter given such a story。
He jerked away another sheet； and was greeted by the massive； rearing fossil skeleton of a short…faced cave bear； caught in a silent roar； its black teeth like daggers。 The engraved brass label on the oak mounting stand indicated it had been pulled from the Kutz Canyon Tar Pits； in New Mexico。
He whispered through the reception hall on his stockinged feet； pulling off additional sheets； exposing a whole row of Pleistocene mammals…each one a magnificent specimen as fine or finer than any in a museum…ending with a series of Neanderthal skeletons； perfectly preserved； some with weapons； tools； and one sporting some sort of necklace made out of teeth。
Glancing to one side； he noticed a marble archway leading into a room beyond。 In its center of the room was a huge； pitted meteorite； at least eight feet in diameter； surrounded by rows upon rows of additional cabinets。
It was ruby in color。
This was almost beyond belief。
He looked away； turning his attention to the objects ranged about mahogany shelves on a nearby wall。 There were bizarre masks； flint spearpoints； a skull inlaid with turquoise； bejeweled knives； toads in jars； thousands of butterflies under glass： everything arranged with the utmost attention to systematics and classification。
He noticed that the light fixtures weren't electric。 They were gas； each with a little pipe leading up into a mantle； covered by a cut…glass shade。 It was incredible。 It had to be Leng's house； just as he had left it。 It was as if he had walked out of the house； boarded it up； and left 。 。 。
Smithback paused； his excitement suddenly abating。 Obviously； the house hadn't remained like this； untouched； since Leng's death。 There must be a caretaker who came regularly。 Somebody had put tin over t