baize door, jet black in the night light, stood out clearly.

As I stared into this reflected room, I noted a peculiar dark spot on
the oval glass panel of the door. Was it at this my mirrored eyes seemed
to look?

I knew I was in no fit condition to withstand the tricks of imagination,
so I turned, not without an effort, to ascertain what really caused this
strange reflection. But my imagination would have served my over-wrought
nerves better than the fact, for the dark spot was unquestionably
something pressed against the glass from outside the room. Steadily I
gazed at this object, and endeavored with all the power I possessed to
reason myself out of the nameless dread that had settled down upon me.

It could not be what it seemed.--Hair against the panel of that
coffin-like door was too full of horrible suggestions! It must be a mop
which had fallen against the glass.--Of course it must be that. A mop,
too, would account for those damp breath stains on the glass.

Thus I reasoned, never taking my eyes off that oval pane in the door.
But as I gazed my theory fell to pieces and my reasoning stopped. The
moist spots on the glass began to expand and contract, vanish and
reappear slowly and regularly as to some heavy breathing. Every
exhalation seemed to blow that fearful odor of death toward my nostrils!

After a few moments however I could no longer deceive myself, for my
eyes, accustomed to the light, made out too plainly for doubt a face
pressed close against the glass watching my every movement.

With that discovery my reason and coolness seemed to return instantly.
Without taking my eyes off the face framed in the door panel, I slid
open the drawer immediately beneath my hand, groped for, and at last
grasped, the revolver I always kept there.

At last the face withdrew from the glass, but so sure was I that no
illusion had deceived me that I waited without moving a muscle. At
length the handle turned and the door was pulled open slowly. As slowly
I turned the chamber of my revolver, touching each cartridge with my
finger. The door continued to swing cautiously, and with my elbow still
in the drawer I raised my forearm, covering the widening slit with the
muzzle of my weapon.

The door opened outward into the hall, and at first I could see nothing
of the person pulling it. Then suddenly a hand darted out and grasped
the inside knob, and at the same moment the figure of a man, his back
turned toward me, block