ive his eyes
dilated with an expression of terror which I have seldom seen equalled.

"You do not know what I have lived through," he said at last. "I only
wonder I retain my reason. Oh, that awful room! no wonder men died and
went mad there!"

"Well, speak, Cressley; I am all attention," I said; "you will be the
better when you have unburdened yourself."

"I can tell you what happened in a few words," he answered. "You know I
mentioned the horrid sort of presentiment I had about coming here at
all. That first night I could not make up my mind to sleep in the house,
so I went to the little inn at Brent. I received your telegram
yesterday, and went to meet you by the last train. When you did not
come, I had a tussle with myself; but I could think of no decent excuse
for deserting the old place, and so came back. My intention was to sit
up the greater part of the night arranging papers in the library. The
days are long now, and I thought I might go to bed when morning broke. I
was irresistibly sleepy, however, and went up to my room soon after one
o'clock. I was determined to think of nothing unpleasant, and got
quickly into bed, taking the precaution first to lock the door. I placed
the key under my pillow, and, being very tired, soon fell into a heavy
sleep. I awoke suddenly, after what seemed but a few minutes, to find
the room dark, for the moon must just have set. I was very sleepy, and I
wondered vaguely why I had awakened; and then suddenly, without warning,
and without cause, a monstrous, unreasonable fear seized me. An
indefinable intuition told me that I was not alone--that some horrible
presence was near. I do not think the certainty of immediate death could
have inspired me with a greater dread than that which suddenly came upon
me. I dared not stir hand nor foot. My powers of reason and resistance
were paralysed. At last, by an immense effort, I nerved myself to see
the worst. Slowly, very slowly, I turned my head and opened my eyes.
Against the tapestry at the further corner of the room, in the dark
shadow, stood a figure. It stood out quite boldly, emanating from itself
a curious light. I had no time to think of phosphorus. It never occurred
to me that any trick was being played upon me. I felt certain that I was
looking at my ancestor, Barrington Cressley, who had come back to
torture me in order to make me give up possession. The figure was that
of a man six feet high, and broad in proportion. The face