sounded close behind him. It was
an unpleasant sound. It was very near him too--

"I beg your pardon, but have you, by any chance, such a thing as a
compass you could lend me?"

The voice was so close that he started. Vance stood within touching
distance of his body. He had stolen up like a ghostly Arab, must have
followed him, too, some little distance, for further down the passage
the light of an open door--he had passed it on his way--showed where he
came from.

"Eh? I beg your pardon? A--compass, did you say?" He felt disconcerted
for a moment. How short the man was, now that he saw him standing. Broad
and powerful too. Henriot looked down upon his thick head of hair. The
personality and voice repelled him. Possibly his face, caught unawares,
betrayed this.

"Forgive my startling you," said the other apologetically, while the
softer expression danced in for a moment and disorganised the rigid set
of the face. "The soft carpet, you know. I'm afraid you didn't hear my
tread. I wondered"--he smiled again slightly at the nature of the
request--"if--by any chance--you had a pocket compass you could lend
me?"

"Ah, a compass, yes! Please don't apologise. I believe I have one--if
you'll wait a moment. Come in, won't you? I'll have a look."

The other thanked him but waited in the passage. Henriot, it so
happened, had a compass, and produced it after a moment's search.

"I am greatly indebted to you--if I may return it in the morning. You
will forgive my disturbing you at such an hour. My own is broken, and I
wanted--er--to find the true north."

Henriot stammered some reply, and the man was gone. It was all over in a
minute. He locked his door and sat down in his chair to think. The
little incident had upset him, though for the life of him he could not
imagine why. It ought by rights to have been almost ludicrous, yet
instead it was the exact reverse--half threatening. Why should not a man
want a compass? But, again, why should he? And at midnight? The voice,
the eyes, the near presence--what did they bring that set his nerves
thus asking unusual questions? This strange impression that something
grave was happening, something unearthly--how was it born exactly? The
man's proximity came like a shock. It had made him start. He
brought--thus the idea came unbidden to his mind--something with him
that galvanised him quite absurdly, as fear does, or delight, or great
wonder. There was a music in his voice too--a cert