Johann Schmidt was exceedingly wroth with the tobacconist's wife, for it
was clear that she had caused the Count's untimely death by her abominable
practical joke. He went and leaned out of the window, churning and
gnashing the fantastic expressions of his rage through his teeth.

Suddenly there was a noise in the room, a distinct, loud noise, as of
shuffling with hands and feet. The Cossack's nerves were proof against
ghostly terrors, but as he turned round he felt that his hair was standing
erect upon his head.

The Count was on his feet and was looking at him.

CHAPTER XII.

"I thought you were dead!" gasped the Cossack in dismay.

There was no answer. The Count did not appear to hear Schmidt's voice nor
to see his figure. He acted like a man walking in his sleep, and it was by
no means certain to the friend who watched him that his eyes were always
open. As though nothing unusual had happened, the Count calmly undressed
himself and got into bed. Three minutes later he was sound asleep and
breathing regularly.

For a long time Johann Schmidt stood transfixed with wonder in his place
at the open window. At last it dawned upon him that his friend had not
been really dead, but had fallen into some sort of fit in the course of
his lonely meditations, from which he had been awakened by the Cossack's
terrific swearing. Why the latter had seemed to be invisible and inaudible
to him, was a matter which Schmidt did not attempt to solve. It was clear
that the Count was alive, and sleeping like other people. Schmidt
hesitated some time as to what he should do. It was possible that his
friend might wake again, and find himself desperately ill. He had been so
evidently unlike himself, that Schmidt had feared he would become a raving
maniac in the night, and had entered the house at his heels, seating
himself upon the stairs just outside the door to wait for events, with the
odd fidelity and forethought characteristic of him. The Count's cry had
warned him that all was not right and he had entered the room, as has been
seen.

He determined to wait some time longer, to see whether anything would
happen. Meanwhile, he thrust Akulina's letter into his pocket, reflecting
that as it was a forgery it would be best that the Count should not have
it, lest he should be again misled by the contents. He sat down and
waited.

Nothing happened. The clocks chimed the quarters up to one in the morning,
a quarter-past, half-p