didn’t succeed, although the mystery was too profound for my fathoming. So I mounted the mare, urged her to her fastest pace, galloped into Brinton, and entered my house with a feeling of intense relief. Thoroughly exhausted by the prolonged physical and mental strain I had endured, I speedily sank into a deep though troubled slumber as soon as I got into bed. I was unusually late in rising the next day. I found that I had no appetite for breakfast. Indeed, I felt ill and out of sorts; and, though I busied myself with my professional duties, I was haunted by the strange incidents of the preceding night. Never before in the whole course of my career had I been so impressed, so unnerved, and so dispirited. I wanted to believe that I was still as sceptical as ever, but it was no use. What I had seen might have been unearthly; but I _had seen it_, and it was no use trying to argue myself out of that fact. The result was, in the course of the afternoon I called on my old friend, Mr. Goodyear, who was chief of the county constabulary. He was a strong-minded man, and, like myself, a hardened sceptic about all things that smacked of the supernatural. ‘Goodyear,’ I said, ‘I’m out of sorts, and I want you to humour a strange fancy I have. Bring one of your best men, and come with me to the haunted mill. But first let me exact from you a pledge of honour that, if our journey should result in nothing, you will keep the matter secret, as I am very sensitive to ridicule.’ He looked at me in amazement, and then, as he burst into a hearty laugh, exclaimed: ‘I say, my friend, you are over-working yourself. It’s time you got a _locum tenens_, and took a holiday.’ I told him that I agreed with him; nevertheless, I begged him to humour me, and accompany me to the mill. At last he reluctantly consented to do so, and an hour later we drove out of the town in my dog-cart. There were four of us, as I took Peter, my groom, with me. We had provided ourselves with lanterns, but Goodyear’s man and Peter knew nothing of the object of our journey. When we got abreast of the mill I drew up, and giving the reins to Peter, I alighted, and Goodyear did the same. Taking him on one side, I said, ‘I have had a vision, and unless I am the victim of incipient madness we shall find a dead body in the mill.’ The light of the dog-cart was shining full on his face, and I saw the expression of alarm that my words brought. ‘Look here, old chap,’ he said in a cheery, kindly way, as he put his arm through mine, ‘you are not going into that mill, but straight home again. Come, now, get into the cart, and don’t let’s have any more of this nonsense.’ I felt disposed to yield to him, and had actually placed my foot on the step to mount, when I staggered back and exclaimed-- ‘My God! am I going mad, or is this a reality?’