"What's that?" he cried. "Who--my God!--who is this coming along the path?" He was not only shrinking as close to her as he could get, he was gripping her arm with convulsive fingers, which she could feel were trembling. He was looking in one direction, she in another. She turned to see what he was staring at; when she saw, it is possible that she began to be in a less exultant mood. Some one, something, was moving along the avenue and coming towards them. It was not easy to determine what it was; it came and went. It was rendered visible by a light which seemed to emanate from its own body, as if it were a kind of phosphorescence. When the light gleamed it was there plainly, if dimly, to be seen; when the light ceased to gleam, it--the something!--seemed to go with it; there was nothing but the black darkness. This continued, this coming and going, for perhaps thirty seconds. Then, suddenly, the light not only grew brighter, it remained. They could see what the something was--it was a man. But what a man! A huge, unwieldy, bloated, shapeless creature, covered from head to foot with some white garment which was swathed round him like a sheet. He seemed to be floating, rather than walking. They could see no movement of his limbs, and yet he came steadily towards them until he was within five or six feet of where they were standing, when the light faded as suddenly as it had come, and there was nothing but darkness there. For some instants they remained motionless, both being probably under the impression that though the figure was no longer visible it still was advancing towards them. While they waited, on the alert to discover what was next about to happen, the silence was broken by a curious noise, as by a series of quick, broken gasps, as if some one panted, struggled, for breath. When all again was still, Mr. Luker asked, in a tone of voice in which was what sounded uncommonly like a note of banter-- "Well, my friend, aren't we to see any more of you? Is that the end of the performance? Won't you favour us with another private view?" In Mrs. Lamb's voice, on the other hand, there was a suggestion of preternatural gravity. "It was Cuthbert Grahame." "What?" "It was Cuthbert Grahame. Didn't you hear him fighting for breath?" "Cuthbert fiddlesticks! It was some damned trick, and not over well done either. This entertainment has been prepared for our special benefit; it occurs to me that it has been insufficiently rehearsed. We've been treated to the first part up to now; the second part is waiting for us inside the house--if we ever get as far. The prelude's been mere foolery. I imagine that the serious business is to come." "It was Cuthbert Grahame." "Nonsense! Where were your eyes, not to speak of your senses? Didn't you notice----" "He is waiting for us inside the house."