"Late one night, after about a week, I was looking out of one of the windows in the dining-room, watching a boat passing. The lights upon her and the throbbing of her engines, half a mile away, were plunging me into a reverie, when suddenly I felt a peculiar sensation of uneasiness. I glanced along the porch, and at the windows; everything seemed all right. I turned, and saw Annie some distance up the hall attending to a lamp at the foot of the stairs. The afternoon paper lay on the table. I walked over to it and picked it up, stationing myself a few feet away from the hall door, where I commanded a view of the entire room, the windows and the balcony. I heard, or fancied I heard, a step or shuffle, and then instantly something closed around my throat and I was pulled backward and downward. I heard a rush in the hall and saw Annie's terrified face looking into the room, but she did not see me. I tried to cry out for help, but was unable to raise my voice. Realizing that I was being killed without aid, I struggled with all my power. I have an indistinct recollection of a shriek in the hall, then a rustling sound, as of garments, near me. The next I knew, Annie, Cook and his wife, with two gardeners, were working over me. One of the gardeners had opened my shirt and thrown water upon my throat. I was unconscious for some minutes, they said; but when I recovered my senses I ordered all hands to keep their mouths closed, under pain of instant dismissal. Inquiries instituted by me revealed that Annie had first heard my struggles, and the shriek that had been given was hers. Response had been quick, but when Cook first entered the room, backed up by the wife and old Annie, I was lying limp and unconscious, face downward on the floor, as though I had been thrown violently forward." * * * * * The recital of this narrative had been given in a quiet, dignified manner--one of absolute conviction. It was an impartial statement of fact, and we were profoundly impressed. Dr. Moore turned to me and said: "Well, do you feel like joining us?" "Ah! Then you are in this too?" I exclaimed. "Yes, Mr. Oakes is going to let me have my vacation in his company." "I certainly shall go," I said; "it appears to me that this matter is a serious one." "It is very serious," Oakes repeated. "There is a deep mystery at the Mansion, and its solution may be a dangerous one. There is murder in that method of attack, and terrible strength behind it." "What is it? A man?" asked Moore. "That is conjecture as yet," said Oakes. "I certainly beard the sound made by a woman's skirts, or something of that sort, but the strength was too great for most women hereabouts." "Yes, if you were overcome by it," I remarked.