I whispered an affirmative, and could dimly see the professor going slowly along the wall. He began tapping things, apparently with a pocket knife. I warned him not to make a noise. "I am known to be here," he answered, coming back to me. "A man who undertakes to investigate the supernatural would be expected to take precautions that no tricks were likely to be played upon him. It would be suspicious if I didn't make a little noise. Now we will settle ourselves. I shall lie on the bed. You move a chair under that glass and sit there. I have an electric torch with me. Don't fall asleep to-night, Wigan." "I didn't last night," I answered. After that we were silent, and the vigil began. In one way it was a repetition of the previous night. I lost count of time, and had sudden desires to move, but managed to control them. Certainly I did not sleep, and I fought successfully against the hypnotic influence which silence and darkness exert. Not a sound of movement came from Quarles, not a murmur from the world outside. More than once I wanted to ask the professor whether he was all right, but did not do so. It seemed that this utter silence had lasted for hours, when it was broken, not suddenly, but gradually. It was not a sound so much as a movement which broke it. Some one or something was near us. At first it did not seem to be in the room, but as if it were trying to get in. I could not tell where it was, but for a time it was outside, and then just as certainly I knew that it was in. I cannot say positively that I heard a footfall on the carpet, but I think I did, and then came an unmistakable sound; the swish of the bed hangings suddenly drawn back. "Quarles!" Whether I shouted his name or whispered it, I do not know, but the next moment a ray from the electric torch cut the darkness like a long sword. There was a low, almost inarticulate cry, then a light thud upon the floor--so light it might have been some clothes falling from the bed. "Don't move, Wigan!" Quarles said, and a second afterwards he fired--downwards it must have been, although he had warned me to keep still, in case he should hit me. There was an unearthly yell, and something rushed past my feet--a man on all fours, a little man, a-- "The glass, Wigan! Quick!" I sprang up. For just an instant I saw my own reflection, then it was gone; instead, I was looking into a luminous mist out of which there suddenly flashed a face looking into mine. I saw it quite clearly, and then it went as quickly as it had come. It appeared to have been jerked away. "Look!" Quarles was behind me, and in the glass, almost as I had seen them last night, were the shadows, only now they struggled and twisted first; it was afterwards that one lay still across the bed. "An ape, Wigan!" Quarles said excitedly. "An ape, trained to imitate, and now--did some one look through the glass?" "Yes." "Was it Dr. Randall?"