e for a moment
for sheer extremity of fright. When I did, when I did put out a shaking
hand to feel for the matches, the dread of years became a reality--I
touched another hand. Now I think it was very wonderful of me not to
scream. I suppose I did not dare. I don't know how I managed it,
petrified as I was with terror, but the next thing that happened was
that I found myself under the bedclothes thinking things over. Whose
hand had I touched? And what was it doing on my table? It was a nasty,
cold hand, and it had clutched at mine as I tore it away. Oh--there it
was, coming after me--it was feeling its way along the
bedclothes--surely it was not real--it must be a nightmare--and that was
why no sound came when I tried to shriek for Charlotte--but what a
horrible nightmare--so very, very real--I could hear the hand sliding
along the sheet to the corner where I was huddling--oh, why had I come
to this frightful island? A gasp of helpless horror did get out, and
instantly Charlotte's voice whispered, 'Be quiet. Don't make a sound.
There's a man outside your window.'

At this my senses came back to me with a rush. 'You've nearly killed
me,' I whispered, filling the whisper with as much hot indignation as it
would hold. 'If my heart had had anything the matter with it I would
have died. Let me go--I want to light the candle. What does a man, a
real living man, matter?'

Charlotte held me tighter. 'Be quiet,' she whispered, in an agony, it
seemed, of fear. 'Be quiet--he isn't--he doesn't look--I don't think he
is alive.'

'_What?_' I whispered.

'Sh--sh--your window's open--he only need put his leg over the sill to
get in.'

'But if he isn't alive he can't put his leg over sills,' I whispered
back incredulously. 'He's some poor drowned sailor washed ashore.'

'Oh be _quiet!_' implored Charlotte, burying her face on my shoulder;
and having got over my own fright I marvelled at the abjectness of hers.

'Let me go. I want to look at him,' I said, trying to get away.

'Sh--sh--don't move--he'd hear--he is just outside----' And she clung to
me in terror.

'But how can he hear if he isn't alive? Let me go----'

'No--no--he's sitting there--just outside--he's been sitting there for
hours--and never moves--oh, it's that man!--I know it is--I knew he'd
come----'

'What man?'

'Oh the dreadful, dreadful Berlin man who died----'

'My dear Charlotte,' I expostulated, feeling now perfectly calm in the
presence of such a