izabethan wing which I
had often longed to explore, and in this strange ramble of mine I soon
had reason to be satisfied that I was well within it. At the end of an
oak-panelled narrow passage a door stood open, and I entered a low,
sombre apartment fitted with furniture in the style of two hundred years
ago. There was something awfully ghostly about the look of this room. A
great four-post bedstead, with heavy hangings, stood in a deep recess; a
round oak table and two high-backed chairs were in the centre of the
room. Suddenly, as I gazed on these things, I heard stealthy footsteps
in the passage, and saw a dim light advancing. Acting on a sudden
impulse, I extinguished my candle and withdrew into the shadow of the
recess, watching eagerly. The footsteps came nearer. My heart seemed to
stand still with expectation. They paused outside the door, for a
moment really--for an age it seemed to me. Then, to my astonishment, I
saw Mr. Maryon enter. He carried a small night-lamp in his hand. Another
glance satisfied me that he was walking in his sleep. He came straight
to the round table, and set down the lamp. He seated himself in one of
the high-backed chairs, his vacant eyes staring at the chair opposite;
then his lips began to move quickly, as if he were addressing some one.
Then he rose, went to the bureau, and seemed to take something from it;
then he sat down again. What a strange action of his hands! At first I
could not understand it; then it flashed upon me that in this dream of
his he must be shuffling cards. Yes, he began to deal; then he was
playing with his adversary--his lips moving anxiously at times.

A look of terrible eagerness came over the sleepwalker's countenance.
With nimble fingers he dealt the cards, and played. Suddenly with a
sweep of his hand he seemed to fling the pack into the fireplace,
started from his seat, grappled with his unseen adversary, raised his
powerful right hand, and struck a tremendous blow. Hush! more footsteps
along the passage! Am I deceived? From my concealment I watch for what
is to follow. Colonel Bludyer comes in, half dressed, but wide awake.

"You maniac!" I hear him mutter: "I expected you were given to such
tricks as these. Lucky for you no eyes but mine have seen your abject
folly. Come back to your room."

Mr. Maryon is still gazing, his arms lifted wildly above his head, upon
the imagined foe whom he had felled to the ground. The Colonel touches
him on the shoulder