BOOK III: THE COMING OF THE LADY

Rupert Sent Leger's Journal.

_April_ 3, 1907.

I have waited till now--well into midday--before beginning to set down
the details of the strange episode of last night. I have spoken with
persons whom I know to be of normal type. I have breakfasted, as usual
heartily, and have every reason to consider myself in perfect health and
sanity. So that the record following may be regarded as not only true in
substance, but exact as to details. I have investigated and reported on
too many cases for the Psychical Research Society to be ignorant of the
necessity for absolute accuracy in such matters of even the minutest
detail.

Yesterday was Tuesday, the second day of April, 1907. I passed a day of
interest, with its fair amount of work of varying kinds. Aunt Janet and
I lunched together, had a stroll round the gardens after tea--especially
examining the site for the new Japanese garden, which we shall call
"Janet's Garden." We went in mackintoshes, for the rainy season is in
its full, the only sign of its not being a repetition of the Deluge being
that breaks in the continuance are beginning. They are short at present
but will doubtless enlarge themselves as the season comes towards an end.
We dined together at seven. After dinner I had a cigar, and then joined
Aunt Janet for an hour in her drawing-room. I left her at half-past ten,
when I went to my own room and wrote some letters. At ten minutes past
eleven I wound my watch, so I know the time accurately. Having prepared
for bed, I drew back the heavy curtain in front of my window, which opens
on the marble steps into the Italian garden. I had put out my light
before drawing back the curtain, for I wanted to have a look at the scene
before turning in. Aunt Janet has always had an old-fashioned idea of
the need (or propriety, I hardly know which) of keeping windows closed
and curtains drawn. I am gradually getting her to leave my room alone in
this respect, but at present the change is in its fitful stage, and of
course I must not hurry matters or be too persistent, as it would hurt
her feelings. This night was one of those under the old regime. It was
a delight to look out, for the scene was perfect of its own kind. The
long spell of rain--the ceaseless downpour which had for the time flooded
everywhere--had passed, and water in abnormal places rather trick