No lady’s
long dress trunk could have mounted it. Sir Francis was necessarily a good deal occupied in the evening with his
sister and her husband, whom he had not seen for some time. Colonel
Hampshire had also just heard that he was likely to be ordered to Egypt,
and when Lynton and he retired to the smoking-room, instead of going
there I went upstairs to my own room to finish a book in which I was
interested. I did not, however, sit up long, and very soon went to bed. Before doing so, I drew back the curtains on the rods, partly because I
like plenty of air where I sleep, and partly also because I thought I
might like to see the play of the moonlight on the floor in the portion
of the gallery beyond where I lay, and where the blinds had not been
drawn. I must have been asleep for some time, for the fire, which I had left in
full blaze, was gone to a few sparks wandering among the ashes, when I
suddenly awoke with the impression of having heard a latch click at the
further extremity of the gallery, where was the chamber containing books
and papers. I had always been a light sleeper, but on the present occasion I woke at
once to complete and acute consciousness, and with a sense of stretched
attention which seemed to intensify all my faculties. The wind had
risen, and was blowing in fitful gusts round the house. A minute or two passed, and I began almost to fancy I must have been
mistaken, when I distinctly heard the creak of the door, and then the
click of the latch falling back into place. Then I heard a sound on the
boards as of one moving in the gallery. I sat up to listen, and as I did
so I distinctly heard steps coming down the gallery. [Illustration: “_Who are you?_”]

I heard them approach and pass my bed; I could see nothing, all was
dark; but I heard the tread proceeding toward where were the uncurtained
and unshuttered windows, two in number; but the moon shone through only
one of these, the nearest--the other was dark, shadowed by the chapel or
some other building at right angles. The tread seemed to me to pause now
and again, and then continue as before. I now fixed my eyes intently on the one illumined window, and it
appeared to me as if some dark body passed across it; but what? I
listened intently, and heard the step proceed to the end of the gallery,
and then return. I again watched the lighted window, and immediately that the sound
reached that portion of the long passage it ceased momentarily, and I
saw, as distinctly as I ever saw anything in my life, by moonlight, a
figure of a man with marked features, in what appeared to be a fur cap
drawn over the brows. It stood in the embrasure of the window, and the outline of the face was
in silhouette; then it moved on, and as it moved I again heard the
tread. I was as certain as I could be that the thing, whatever it was, or the
person, whoever he was, was approaching my bed. I threw myself back in the bed, and as I did see a mass of charred wood
on the hearth fell down and sent up a flash of--I fancy sparks, that
gave out a glare into the darkness, and by that--red as blood--I saw a
face near me. With a cry, over which I had as little control as the scream uttered by
a sleeper in the agony of a nightmare, I called, “Who are you?”

There was an instant during which my hair bristled on my head, as in the
horror of the darkness I prepared to grapple with the being at my side;
when a board creaked as if someone had moved, and I heard the footsteps
retreat, and again the click of the latch. The next instant there was a rush on the stairs and Lynton burst into
the room, just as he had sprung out of bed, crying: “For God’s sake,
what is the matter? Are you ill?”

I could not answer. Lynton struck a light and leaned over the bed. Then
I seized him by the arm, and said, without moving: “There has been
something in this room--gone in thither.”

The words were hardly out of my mouth when Lynton, following the
direction of my eyes, had sprung to the end of the corridor and thrown
open the door there. He went into the room beyond, looked round it, returned, and said: “You
must have been dreaming.”

By this time I was out of bed. “Look for yourself,” said he, and he led me into the little room. It was
bare, with cupboards and boxes, a sort of lumber place. “There is
nothing beyond this,” said he, “no door, no staircase. It is a blind
way.” Then he added: “Now pull on your dressing-gown and come downstairs
to my sanctum.”

I followed him, and after he had spoken to Lady Lynton, who was standing
with the door of her room ajar in a state of great agitation, he turned
to me, and said: “No one can have been in your room. You see, my and my
wife’s apartments are close below, and no one could come up the spiral
staircase without passing my door. You must have had a nightmare. Directly you screamed I rushed up the steps, and met no one descending;
and there is no place of concealment in the lumber-room at the end of
the gallery.”

Then he took me into his private snuggery, blew up the fire, lighted a
lamp, and said: “I shall be really grateful if you will say nothing
about this. There are some in the house and neighborhood who are silly
enough as it is. You stay here, and if you do not feel inclined to go to
bed, read--here are books. I must go to Lady Lynton, who is a good deal
frightened, and does not like to be left alone.”

He then went to his bedroom. Sleep, as far as I was concerned, was out of the question, nor do I
think Sir Francis and his wife slept much, either. I made up the fire, and after a time took up a book, and tried to read,
but it was useless. I sat absorbed in thoughts and questionings till I heard the servants
stirring in the morning. I went to my own room, left the candle burning,
and got into bed. I had just fallen asleep when my servant brought me a
cup of tea at eight o’clock. At breakfast Colonel Hampshire and his wife asked if anything had
happened in the night, as they had been much disturbed by noises
overhead, to which Lynton replied that I had not been very well, and had
an attack of cramp, and that he had been upstairs to look after me. From
his manner I could see that he wished me to be silent, and I said
nothing accordingly. In the afternoon, when everyone had gone out, Sir Francis took me into
his snuggery, and said: “Halifax, I am very sorry about that matter last
night. It is quite true, what my brother said, that steps have been
heard about this house, but I never gave heed to such things, putting
all noises down to rats. But after your experiences I feel that it is
due to you to tell you something, and also to make to you an
explanation. There is--there was--no one in the room at the end of the
corridor, except the skeleton that was discovered in the chalk-pit when
you were here many years ago. I confess I had not paid much heed to it.