dually growing less distinct.
I crouched there, listening for some moments to that fading sound, when
it began to grow louder again. The man had turned about and was coming
back. As he passed under the lamp on the opposite corner I thought I
recognized the slim figure of Mr. Murmurtot. Suddenly I was startled by
a noise in the room adjoining ours, and sprang to my feet in a tremor.
Plague take my imagination! It was somebody going to bed. I sat down
again and for a long time looked out at the man walking back and forth
in front of the house. I was rapidly getting into a condition of mind
unfavorable to rest and, closing the shutters, I went to bed at once.
For hours I lay tossing restlessly from one side to the other, and
finally fell into a deep sleep. I must have slept a long time when I
suddenly awoke, laboring with nightmare. I had heard no sound, I had
felt no touch, but all at once my eyes were open and I knew that I was
awake. The lamp was burning dimly on the table beside my bed. How my
heart was beating! And my arm--how it trembled when I tried to raise up
on my elbow and look about the room!

"Who's there?" I whispered. Was it Rayel standing near the bed, his body
swaying backward and forward, or was I yet asleep? Everything looked dim
and weird. I seemed to be in some silent ghostland between sleeping and
waking. I rubbed my eyes and peered about the half-darkened room. It was
Rayel, and, as I gazed at him, his eyes seemed to shine like balls of
fire. I called to him, but he made no answer. What had happened since I
went to sleep? Alarmed, I threw the covers aside and leaped out of bed.
As I did so he stepped up close to the opposite wall, and, as his hand
moved, I could hear the grating of a crayon on its surface. In tremulous
haste I turned up the wick of the lamp and tiptoed toward him, holding
it in my hand. He was stepping backward and excitedly pointing at the
wall. He had been drawing a picture on its white surface--the form of
a woman holding something in her hand. I stepped nearer, still carrying
the lamp. A sharp interjection broke from my lips. The woman pictured
there was my stepmother, and it was a knife that she held! A man was
lying at her feet. Again Rayel stepped forward, and again I heard the
crayon grating on the wall. Then he stood aside. Great God! There were
drops of blood dripping from the knife now. Rayel sank down upon the
floor and covered his eyes with his hands. I stood there, dumb