From out the Vasty Deep by Marie Belloc Lowndes

It was a good deal more than an hour later -- in fact nearer twelve than eleven o'clock -- when young Donnington got up from the comfortable chair where he had been ensconced, and put down the book which he had been reading.

All the other men of the party, with the exception of old Mr. Burnaby -- who had gone to bed for good after his dramatic bolt from the drawing-room -- had disappeared some time ago. But Donnington had stayed on downstairs, absorbed in a curious, privately printed book containing the history of Wyndfell Hall.