an figure is concealed among the
outlines of trees and leaves. I held the paper at arm's length, and
with the electric light gleaming upon it, examined it at all angles,
with eyes wide open, and eyes half closed. At last, inclining it away
from me, I saw that the words were intended to mean, 'The Secret'. The
secret, of course, was what he was trying to impart, but he had
apparently got no further than the title of it. Deeply absorbed in my
investigation, I was never more startled in my life than to hear in
the stillness down the corridor the gasped words, '_Oh, God!_'

I swept round my light, and saw leaning against the wall, in an almost
fainting condition, Sophia Brooks, her eyes staring like those of a
demented person, and her face white as any ghost's could have been.
Wrapped round her was a dressing-gown. I sprang to my feet.

'What are you doing there?' I cried.

'Oh, is that you, Monsieur Valmont? Thank God, thank God! I thought I
was going insane. I saw a hand, a bodiless hand, holding a white sheet
of paper.'

'The hand was far from bodiless, madam, for it belonged to me. But why
are you here? It must be near midnight.'

'It _is_ midnight,' answered the woman; 'I came here because I heard
my husband call me three times distinctly, "Sophia, Sophia, Sophia!"
just like that.'

'Nonsense, madam,' I said, with an asperity I seldom use where the
fair sex is concerned; but I began to see that this hysterical
creature was going to be in the way during a research that called for
coolness and calmness. I was sorry I had invited her to come.
'Nonsense, madam, you have been dreaming.'

'Indeed, Monsieur Valmont, I have not. I have not even been asleep,
and I heard the words quite plainly. You must not think I am either
mad or superstitious.'

I thought she was both, and next moment she gave further evidence of
it, running suddenly forward, and clutching me by the arm.

'Listen! listen!' she whispered. 'You hear nothing?'

'Nonsense!' I cried again, almost roughly for my patience was at an
end, and I wished to go on with my inquiry undisturbed.

'Hist, hist!' she whispered; 'listen!' holding up her finger. We both
stood like statues, and suddenly I felt that curious creeping of the
scalp which shows that even the most civilised among us have not yet
eliminated superstitious fear. In the tense silence I heard someone
slowly coming up the stair; I heard the halting step of a lame man. In
the tension of the mome