Thus it was that on the night of September 19, after an evening’s moth-hunt, he went to his room and sat down to write. First, however, he changed to pyjamas and dressing-gown, for a sudden shower had soaked his clothing. He then selected from a box a cigar of a brand whose housing and apparel proclaimed it of high price and special flavour, lighted it, and smoked with deep, long puffs. To his daughter or any other who knew him well this would have signified some unusual mental condition, for the abstemious professor used tobacco most sparingly. On this occasion he needed it as a sedative. Professor Ravenden had undergone a severe shock. For more than three hours he wrote, with long pauses for consideration. Once he rose, strode on slippered feet up and down the room and communed aloud with himself: “Undeniably I was terrified.... Why otherwise should I have fled?... An object that may well have been harmless and must inevitably have presented aspects of scientific interest.... Perhaps the repetition... the instinct of peril deceived me, fostered by the previous inexplicable occurrences... yet, even in my fright, I incline to believe that I preserved my powers of observation.” When he slept upon the conclusion of his work, there lay amid the wreckage of scriptive revision upon his table three closely written sheets of manuscript. Waking early the next morning, he aroused Haynes and Dick Colton, and asked them to come to his room as soon as they had dressed. Upon their entrance he bade them to seats, and took up the manuscript. “In a case of this importance,” he said formally, “I shall not apologise, except by mention, for the disorder of my room. It has been my practice in cases presenting difficult aspects to reduce the salient facts to writing, thus preserving the more important features unencumbered with obstructive detail. This method it was which enabled me to throw some new light upon the dimorphic female of the _Papilio turnus_ as found in the Blue Ridge chain. In the present instance I design to read to you, gentlemen, a report upon certain strange happenings of last night, and to ask your opinion as bearing upon the mysterious events which have crowded so fast upon each other recently. Before beginning to read, I may state that I never have been afflicted with any aberration of the senses, that I am in sound health, and that after the experiences which I am about to state I tested both temperature and pulse for possible indications of fever. My temperature was 98.5, which is normal for me, and my pulse, while a trifle irregular, owing to nervous disturbances, was not unusually rapid. Do I present to you, Dr. Colton, any external indications of nervous or functional disorder?” “Absolutely none, sir,” replied the physician promptly. “I should estimate your temperament to be an unusually calm and rational one.”