For two years Rachel and I had lived in this silent, limited
partnership. My home was cool and soundless as the grave, a place in
which the mind could stretch its shriveled wings, where everything
could be done mechanically and without fear of a sudden jar into
disagreeable reality. When of an afternoon I stepped from the hurrying
world into the first quiet woods on the way to my home, a great door
swung to behind me and another life began, in which Rachel's figure
and swarthy, heavy-featured face had long ceased to interfere with my
meditation.

This night, however, before the meal was served, the kitchen door
opened and my housekeeper's inscrutable dull eyes rolled around the
walls of the room; then it closed. What had happened? Why on this
night had Rachel noticed my arrival? At supper I broke our unspoken
compact and addressed her.

"Rachel, what made you look in just now? Has anything happened?"

The woman made no reply, yet there was evidence in her manner that she
was groping for an answer. Presently to a second demand she made a
reply that startled me:--

"Heard two of you."

So, another ear had detected the steps as well as my own! Then the
being, whatever it was, must be in the room, possibly at my elbow;
or, seated perchance on that chair before me, was regarding me
steadfastly! Except for the excitement bred of a new sensation, it was
not a pleasant thought; nevertheless, I pulled a second chair to the
table and filled a second plate with food; then, with my eyes fixed on
the plate, continued the meal. It was all in vain. Nothing further was
seen or heard.

This was my first definite encounter with that unseen which I would
have called a spirit had I been a spiritualist. But I could not force
myself to the gross materialism of calling this invisible existence a
spirit, for tangibility was a quality I could not associate with pure
spirit, and I had touched it.

Having once followed me, it seemed thenceforth to take up quarters in
my house, at least for the evening and morning hours of the day, and
strange as it was, I soon learned to regard the presence of a third
person as an established fact; indeed, I came to believe that in some
instances a faint breathing might be detected. Nevertheless I would
not leave anything to the possibilities of imagination, but was always
experimenting, with a view to prove still more clearly that there was
no illusion possible. To this end a brass and steel rod, fit