“It is by far too late for you to be here—alone,” I said. “Late?” she cried, in English. “It is not late!” “It must be three o’clock,” I said. Then I took out my watch and tried to see it in the moonlight. Just as I did so, a clock struck three. “You hear?” I said, turning round. _She was not there!_ It gave me a shock. Then I remembered how swift and noiseless lunatics can be. There had been time enough for her to slip away under the trees. First, I listened. Not a sound; not the rustle of a falling leaf, not the crackle of a twig. Then I searched, and called; until a sudden uncanny sensation that I was the subject of some temporary delirium sent me, flying almost, towards the house. I was thankful to see its white walls, to find the door open, and to gain my room. As soon as I had done so, I felt such sudden fatigue that I got back into bed again as quickly as I could, and fell asleep directly. I have set this down just as it seemed to me to be happening, neither more nor less. Now comes the, to me, most curious part. I was awakened by the footman bringing me the hot water. After he had gone out of the room, I turned to get up, when my attention was arrested by the china candlesticks on the table by the bed. The candles were burnt out, and the china rims were blackened. “I put those out; I could have sworn it,” I said to myself. I remembered noticing the peculiar shape of one of the gutterings. It was like a monkey crawling up a stick. Could I have lit them on my return? I thought. No! I remembered throwing off my clothes in the moonlight, my eyelids weighed down by sudden drowsiness. While I had my bath and dressed I pondered. No result came from my ponderings. Then I heard fresh young voices, and hurried my dressing. Some feeling urged me to interrupt a bantering _tête-à-tête_ between Roderick and Lilia. Going down, I found them in the hall: Lilia was standing against the billiard-table, frowning; Roderick was talking earnestly to her. He stopped speaking when I came in. She blushed. Why blush? It was no business of mine, of course; but I did not wish to find that charming young creature utterly inconsistent. And any parleying from a lover point of view, with her cousin, after yesterday’s confidences, would prove her undeniably inconsistent. But the blush faded, and she looked grave when she saw me. “I am afraid you have had a bad night, Dr. Paull,” she said, kindly. “Why?” I asked, nodding back good-morning to Captain Pym. “You look so tired.” I vouchsafed that I had an early morning stroll, and spoke of the unfastened door. “The door into the garden?” She looked amazed; and then walked to that door and tried it. “It is locked and bolted now, whatever it was then,” she said. I joined her, and sure enough it was. “The omission must have been found out and rectified,” I said. Indeed, I was absolutely certain on that point. That door was unchained and unbolted at two o’clock that morning.