ther self. It must have been a minute or two
before my muscles relaxed and my arms fell at my sides.

"I'll do it," I said.

I dined. I told the people of the house not to sit up for me. I was
going to see friends in the neighbourhood, and might stay the night with
them. I took my Inverness cape with me on my arm and my soft felt hat in
my pocket. I wore a light suit and a straw hat.

Before I started I leaned cautiously from my window. The lamp at the bow
window next to mine showed me the pallid young man, smoking a fat,
reeking cigar. I hoped he would continue to sit there smoking. His
window looked the right way; and if he didn't see what I wanted him to
see some one else in the inn would. The landlady had assured me that I
should disturb no one if I came in at half-past twelve.

"We hardly keep country hours here, sir," she said, "on account of so
much excursionist business."

I bought candles in the village, and, as I went down across the park in
the soft darkness, I turned again and again to be sure that the light
and the pallid young man were still at that window. It was now past
eleven.

I got into the house and lighted a candle, and crept through the dark
kitchens, whose windows, I knew, did not look towards the inn. When I
came to the hall I blew out my candle. I dared not show light
prematurely, and in the unhaunted part of the house.

I gave myself a nasty knock against one of the long tables, but it
helped me to get my bearings, and presently I laid my hand on the stone
balustrade of the great staircase. You would hardly believe me if I were
to tell you truly of my sensations as I began to go up these stairs. I
am not a coward--at least, I had never thought so till then--but the
absolute darkness unnerved me. I had to go slowly, or I should have lost
my head and blundered up the stairs three at a time, so strong was the
feeling of something--something uncanny--just behind me.

I set my teeth. I reached the top of the stairs, felt along the walls,
and after a false start, which landed me in the great picture gallery, I
found the white parlour, entered it, closed the door, and felt my way to
a little room without a window, which we had decided must have been a
powdering-room.

Here I ventured to re-light my candle.

The white parlour, I remembered, was fully furnished. Returning to it I
struck one match, and by its flash determined the way to the
mantelpiece.

Then I closed the powdering-room do