Outside the threatening promise of the barometer was already finding fulfilment, and a cold ugly wind was complaining among the pines, and hooting round the peaks, and snow had begun to fall. The night was thickly overcast, and it seemed as if uneasy presences were going to and fro in the darkness. But there was no use in ill augury, and certainly if we were to be house-bound for a few days I was lucky in having so commodious a lodging. I had plenty to occupy myself with indoors, though I should vastly have preferred to be engaged outside, and in the immediate present how good it was to lie free in a proper bed after a cramped night in the train. * * * * * I was half-undressed when there came a tap at my door, and the waiter who had served us at dinner came in carrying a bottle of whisky. He was a tall young fellow, and though I had not noticed him at dinner, I saw at once now, as he stood in the glare of the electric light, what Harry had meant when he said he was sure he was a sensitive. There is no mistaking that look: it is exhibited in a peculiar “inlooking” of the eye. Those eyes, one knows, see further than the surface.... “The bottle of whisky for monsieur,” he said, putting it down on the table. “But I ordered no whisky,” said I. He looked puzzled. “Number twenty-three?” he said. Then he glanced at the other bed. “Ah, for the other gentleman, without doubt,” he said. “But there is no other gentleman,” said I. “I am alone here.” He took up the bottle again. “Pardon, monsieur,” he said. “There must be a mistake. I am new here; I only came to-day. But I thought----” “Yes?” said I. “I thought that number twenty-three had ordered a bottle of whisky,” he repeated. “Good-night, monsieur, and pardon.” * * * * *