"We sleep here--nice, comfortable double bed, as far as I can see," replied Follansbee. Lunch eaten, the two investigators returned to the bedroom where they were to sleep. The moon had already risen, so long had they sat in the kitchen, but it was not yet throwing its light through the single window to the south. Follansbee and Tenny sat talking for the better part of an hour. It was the older man who first noticed that the moonlight had reached the counterpane of the bed. "There we are," he said. "Now for the shadow." They sat for a few minutes in silence, while the light of the moon crept in a parallelogram across the counterpane. But there was no shadow save the shadow of a tree, a few branches of which dipped into the moonlight. Presently Follansbee rose and went in some irritation over to the bed and stood looking down at the patch of moonlight. "Batty as can be," he murmured, obviously referring to Miss Harriet Sears. Tenny, who had drifted to his side, said suddenly, "what a funny angle those branches have!" Follansbee bent abruptly closer. "As if they were coming from above," he murmured. "But look here--they're not just branches--they're like a forest of little trees, and what odd spines for leaves!" Suddenly he whirled to the window. "Oh, now I see," he said harshly. "_There's no tree of any kind beyond the window!_" "Nor anything to make that shadow," added Tenny. They stood for a few moments scrutinizing the glass and looking through it into the clearing outside. The line of trees to the south was too far for any shadow to reach the house; the trees were shadowed in an uneven line across the clearing below. Then they returned to the bed and stood looking down at the counterpane. "Well, there has to be some explanation," said Tenny. Follansbee nodded. "But I don't get it," he said. Then he stopped abruptly, staring down at the parallelogram of moonlight widening eyes. Tenny followed the older man's startled gaze. There, in the moonlight, was a tiny, moving shadow--a shadow only slightly over two inches in height, moving with incredible rapidity, yet achieving no distance in the parallelogram of moonlight--the figure of a man! Back and forth it ran within a space so small that it might have been covered by the extended palm of a hand. The two men stared in growing amazement. Then Follansbee turned to the window again. But there was nothing there--nothing on the glass, nothing against the glass outside, nothing flying against the moonlight in the sky. He turned back to the bed. The shadow was still there. He bent, peering intently. The incredible shadow was running wildly, this way and that, its tiny arms outflung, its spindle-legs moving rapidly upon the counterpane, a thing alive, yet without substance. "Good God," muttered Tenny at last. "It's a man--it's a live man. But where is he?" "I don't know," Follansbee jerked out.