gible hints at some
secret not of love,--some secret that seemed of crime. "We ought to
love each other," was one of the sentences I remember, "for how every
one else would execrate us if all was known." Again: "Don't let any
one be in the same room with you at night,--you talk in your sleep."
And again: "What's done can't be undone; and I tell you there's
nothing against us unless the dead could come to life." Here there was
underlined in a better handwriting (a female's), "They do!" At the end
of the letter latest in date the same female hand had written these
words: "Lost at sea the 4th of June, the same day as--"

I put down the letters, and began to muse over their contents.

Fearing, however, that the train of thought into which I fell might
unsteady my nerves, I fully determined to keep my mind in a fit state
to cope with whatever of marvellous the advancing night might bring
forth. I roused myself; laid the letters on the table; stirred up the
fire, which was still bright and cheering; and opened my volume of
Macaulay. I read quietly enough till about half-past eleven. I then
threw myself dressed upon the bed, and told my servant he might retire
to his own room, but must keep himself awake. I bade him leave open
the door between the two rooms. Thus alone, I kept two candles burning
on the table by my bed-head. I placed my watch beside the weapons, and
calmly resumed my Macaulay. Opposite to me the fire burned clear; and
on the hearthrug, seemingly asleep, lay the dog. In about twenty
minutes I felt an exceedingly cold air pass by my cheek, like a sudden
draught. I fancied the door to my right, communicating with the
landing-place, must have got open; but no,--it was closed. I then
turned my glance to my left, and saw the flame of the candles
violently swayed as by a wind. At the same moment the watch beside the
revolver softly slid from the table,--softly, softly; no visible
hand,--it was gone. I sprang up, seizing the revolver with the one
hand, the dagger with the other; I was not willing that my weapons
should share the fate of the watch. Thus armed, I looked round the
floor,--no sign of the watch. Three slow, loud, distinct knocks were
now heard at the bed-head; my servant called out, "Is that you, sir?"

"No; be on your guard."

The dog now roused himself and sat on his haunches, his ears moving
quickly backwards and forwards. He kept his eyes fixed on me with a
look so strange that he concentred all my