his fingers turned
white.

"He tried to work, but the empty sockets in that grinning head seemed to
be drawing him towards them. He rose and battled with his inclination to
fly screaming from the room. Glancing fearfully about him, his eye fell
upon a high screen, standing before the door. He dragged it forward, and
placed it between himself and the thing, so that he could not see it--nor
it see him. Then he sat down again to his work. For a while he forced
himself to look at the book in front of him, but at last, unable to
control himself any longer, he suffered his eyes to follow their own
bent.

"It may have been an hallucination. He may have accidentally placed the
screen so as to favour such an illusion. But what he saw was a bony hand
coming round the corner of the screen, and, with a cry, he fell to the
floor in a swoon.

"The people of the house came running in, and lifting him up, carried him
out, and laid him upon his bed. As soon as he recovered, his first
question was, where had they found the thing--where was it when they
entered the room? and when they told him they had seen it standing where
it always stood, and had gone down into the room to look again, because
of his frenzied entreaties, and returned trying to hide their smiles, he
listened to their talk about overwork, and the necessity for change and
rest, and said they might do with him as they would.

"So for many months the laboratory door remained locked. Then there came
a chill autumn evening when the man of science opened it again, and
closed it behind him.

"He lighted his lamp, and gathered his instruments and books around him,
and sat down before them in his high-backed chair. And the old terror
returned to him.

"But this time he meant to conquer himself. His nerves were stronger
now, and his brain clearer; he would fight his unreasoning fear. He
crossed to the door and locked himself in, and flung the key to the other
end of the room, where it fell among jars and bottles with an echoing
clatter.

"Later on, his old housekeeper, going her final round, tapped at his door
and wished him good-night, as was her custom. She received no response,
at first, and, growing nervous, tapped louder and called again; and at
length an answering 'good-night' came back to her.

"She thought little about it at the time, but afterwards she remembered
that the voice that had replied to her had been strangely grating and
mechanical. Tryi