When he had gone, all was dark. Never will the memory of that miserable _contretemps_ be surpassed by a more disheartening experience. It required several minutes' careful search to find the stairs, and my hands encountered all sorts of horrible recesses, as, painfully and slowly, I felt my way about. The only occasion like it was when, in that dreary Russian dungeon, my hands had discovered the fatal seal. My thoughts instantly reverted to that night, then many months ago, and it felt to my excited and over-wrought nerves, that every crack my fingers found were portions of the occult inscription. As I at last ascended the stairs my memory endeavoured to recall the position of the room in which I had left the body. It was certainly at the top of the house, for our ascent, in his weak state, had occupied some time. Arrived at the top landing I struck a match, for it was evident that it would not be observed at such a height. To my surprise there were only two rooms, both entirely empty, one so small that it certainly could not have been the one in which that eventful night had been spent. The other was also small, and had not the shape that I remembered. Obviously there was some mistake in my calculations, and dropping the burnt match upon the carpetless boards, I resumed my search, this time in a downward direction. And now an event happened which added increased risk to the adventure, and which, even after the lapse of many months since its occurrence, I cannot think of without a thrill of excitement. In treading upon the match my face in some way became reversed, so that my next steps, carefully guided as I was by the wall, were in the wrong direction. The first indication I had of this was a collision, with some force, with the balustrades of the stairs. These appeared to be very old and rickety, for as my heavy frame dealt them a blow they shook and rattled ominously. To seize them convulsively was the work of an instant; but, quick as thought, I had drawn back and thrown myself on my side. After swaying for a second, the heavy railing plunged forward and fell with a sound almost like thunder down the whole height of the building, bumping from stage to stage in the most hideous manner. I was saved; but what next! For a time I lay and listened, as little pieces of plaster rolled down the stairs and the rats scuttled restlessly about. Then, half-dazed, I felt for the matches, which, happily, were safe in my pocket. By the dim light given by one of these it was easy to see my horrible position, perched on the edge of the landing, some part of my long ulster actually hanging over the side. Below, all was dark. A dense cloud seemed rising between my eyes and the match slowly burning itself out. The choking sensation told me that it was a cloud of dust raised by the fall of so much plaster. After waiting for a short time, scarcely daring to breathe, I struck another match, and again looked around.