Then I awoke, and there were people in the room. The room was lit by a nightlight dimly burning in a little dish. I, still possessed by the terror of the dream, lay very quiet. From the next room came the deep and stertorous breathing of my father. The people in my room, as though knowing him to be under the influence of drugs or wine, seemed quite oblivious of his presence so close to them. Baron Lichtenberg was standing by the foot of my bed; beside him stood the woman Gretel. They were gazing upon me and talking about me, and I was chill with terror. Peeping under my lids, I could see them, but in the dim light they could not tell that I was awake as they gazed at me and talked in a half-whisper. "It is horrible," said the man, "but it was prophesied. Look at him. Can you doubt?" "Yes," said the woman; "it is he, as surely as she is Margaret." "And you say he recognised her picture?" "Surely," replied the woman, "by his face, which I watched narrowly." Now, the face of the man seen in the dim light was the face of Baron Carl von Lichtenberg with the veil removed, the veil which every man wears whilst playing his part in the social comedy. The face that was looking down at me was both merciless and mad. Child though I was, I dimly felt that this man was at enmity with me, and that he not only feared me, but hated me. "And now," said the woman in the same half-whisper, "what is to do? Will you bring them together?" "To-morrow," said the Baron. During this conversation, which had lasted some minutes, the Baron had never once taken his eyes from my face. I could support it no longer. I opened my eyes, tossed my arms, and, like a pair of evil spectres, my visitors vanished from the room. Now that I was free of their presence, my terror became tinged with curiosity. Who was Margaret? Who was the person they referred to as being me? _The other person?_ In those questions lay the mystery and tragedy of my life. I was to have the answer to them terribly soon. I listened to the turret clock striking the hours. This clock was of very antique make. The figure of a man in armour, larger than life, struck a ponderous bell with a mallet. You could see him in the turret, and my father had pointed him out to me as we drove up to the house. As I listened, I pictured him standing there alone. A figure from another age and a far-distant time. CHAPTER VI LITTLE CARL I was awakened by the note of a horn blown by some ranger in the forest. The sun was shining in through the window, night had vanished with all its dreams and fears, and Joubert was at the door. Joubert, unsuccessful, perhaps, in one of his multifarious love-affairs, was grumpy; and when I tried to explain about the nocturnal visitors he wouldn't listen. He knew my imaginative powers, and put my story down to them; and, as for me, attracted by the events of the moment as all children are, I had nearly forgotten the whole matter by breakfast-time.