The words broke the silence in the oddest manner. The voice was sweet, soft, clear--unmistakably a lady’s. It thrilled me strangely. Nothing which had gone before had disconcerted me so much--it was an utterance of such extreme simplicity. Was it possible that the lady was a somnambulist, who, held in the thraldom of that curious disease, had woke to find herself in a stranger’s bedroom? If that was the case, what was I to do? How could I explain the situation, without unduly startling her? The question was answered for me. I must unconsciously have fidgeted. All at once her face was turned towards me. She exclaimed: “Who’s that?” I arrived at an instant resolution--replying with the most matter-of-fact air of which I was capable. “Do not be alarmed--it is I, John Ferguson. If you will allow me, I will turn on the light, so that we may see each other better.” I switched on the electric light. What it revealed again amazed me into speechlessness. At the foot of my bed stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen; I thought so in that first astounded moment--I think so still. She was tall and she was slight. She looked at me out of the biggest and the sweetest pair of eyes I ever saw. But there was something in them which I did not understand. It was not only bewilderment, it was as if she was looking at the world out of a dream. She regarded me, as I sat, with my touzled head of hair, not, as I had feared, with signs of agitation and alarm, but rather with a curious sort of wonderment. “I don’t know who you are. Where am I? Have I ever seen you before?” It was spoken as a child might speak, with a little tremulous intonation, as if she were on the verge of tears. “I don’t think you have. But don’t be alarmed--you are quite safe. I think you have been walking in your sleep.” “Walking in my sleep?” “I fancy you must have been.” “But--do I walk in my sleep?” In spite of myself, I smiled at the simplicity of the inquiry. “That is a matter on which you should know more than I do.” “But--where can I have walked from?” “That also is a question to which you should be able to supply an answer. Do you live in the Mansions?” “The Mansions?” “These are the Imperial Mansions. Is your home here?” “My home?” She shook her head solemnly. “I don’t know where my home is.” “Not know? But you must know where your home is. Who are you? What is your name?” “I don’t know who I am or what is my name.”