Troy. His voice trembled and shook
sadly as he concluded, 'My house too has fallen and nears its end, and I
alone am left to tell the tale--the tale of a most foul--as I am
convinced--and unnatural murder.'

With this he clasped his hands together and looked darkly into the
future; then as he rose to bid me farewell and turned towards the door,
I heard him murmur to himself: '_Illa culpa, illa culpa, illa maxima
culpa_.'

The door closed; I was left to my pipe and my reverie. 'It must have
been the Buccaneer who "wrought this deed of shame,"' I reflected, but
then I understood that he had been 'reconciled' to Rome before he died,
had given gifts to the Church, built the chapel here, and so 'made a
good end.' On the other hand I remembered that he had died childless.

The past was dead and gone, however, and did not much interest me, but
my uncle's emotion and distress touched me to the quick, and I
determined to avoid the subject henceforth in our conversation.

I went to bed early that night, for I had been a longer walk than usual
that afternoon, but whether it was that I was overtired, or could not
rid my mind of my uncle's suffering I know not. The one thing certain
was that after a slight doze I became extraordinarily wide-awake.

I was convinced that I heard footsteps somewhere or other in the house,
and as I listened with the greatest intentness I distinctly caught the
sound of some one treading upon the staircase that led into the hall.

It must be either my uncle--walking perhaps in his sleep--or else the
ghost. I sat up in bed to listen the better, and without a doubt caught
the sound of a footfall treading on the stone floor, apparently down in
the hall below. Curiosity prevailed over alarm; I got up, put on a
dressing-gown and socks, and proceeded cautiously without along the
corridor.

The footsteps had come to a halt seemingly, for now I heard nothing; and
then on a sudden by the light of the waning moon that showed in a faint
milk-white aureole through the high window emblazoned with the bugles
and caltrops of the Startingtons, that lit the hall below, I saw a dim
figure coming up the stairway towards me upon soundless feet; I drew
back in utmost astonishment, and shrank away beside a massive oak
cupboard on the landing.

The figure mounted the steps slowly, and as though in pain, passed
gently by me with just such a movement of the air as a moth might make
in its flight, and with a tiny sound a