moon, and nothing visible outside but the streaking of snow
against the panes.

I went back to bed and must have dozed, for I jumped awake to the
furious ringing of my bell. Before my head was clear I had sprung out
of bed, and was dragging on my clothes. _It is going to happen now_, I
heard myself saying; but what I meant I had no notion. My hands seemed
to be covered with glue--I thought I should never get into my clothes.
At last I opened my door and peered down the passage. As far as my
candle-flame carried, I could see nothing unusual ahead of me. I
hurried on, breathless; but as I pushed open the baize door leading to
the main hall my heart stood still, for there at the head of the stairs
was Emma Saxon, peering dreadfully down into the darkness.

For a second I couldn't stir; but my hand slipped from the door, and as
it swung shut the figure vanished. At the same instant there came
another sound from below stairs--a stealthy mysterious sound, as of a
latch-key turning in the house-door. I ran to Mrs. Brympton's room and
knocked.

There was no answer, and I knocked again. This time I heard some one
moving in the room; the bolt slipped back and my mistress stood before
me. To my surprise I saw that she had not undressed for the night. She
gave me a startled look.

"What is this, Hartley?" she says in a whisper. "Are you ill? What are
you doing here at this hour?"

"I am not ill, madam; but my bell rang."

At that she turned pale, and seemed about to fall.

"You are mistaken," she said harshly; "I didn't ring. You must have
been dreaming." I had never heard her speak in such a tone. "Go back to
bed," she said, closing the door on me.

But as she spoke I heard sounds again in the hall below: a man's step
this time; and the truth leaped out on me.

"Madam," I said, pushing past her, "there is someone in the house--"

"Someone--?"

"Mr. Brympton, I think--I hear his step below--"

A dreadful look came over her, and without a word, she dropped flat at
my feet. I fell on my knees and tried to lift her: by the way she
breathed I saw it was no common faint. But as I raised her head there
came quick steps on the stairs and across the hall: the door was flung
open, and there stood Mr. Brympton, in his travelling-clothes, the snow
dripping from him. He drew back with a start as he saw me kneeling by
my mistress.

"What the devil is this?" he shouted. He was less high-colored than
usual, and the red spot came