* * * * * A fortnight of our three weeks passed without incident, except that again and again the curious feeling of something dreadful being close at hand was present in my mind. In a way, as I said, I got used to it, but on the other hand the feeling itself seemed to gain in poignancy. Once just at the end of the fortnight I mentioned it to Jack. “Odd you should speak of it,” he said, “because I’ve felt the same. When do you feel it? Do you feel it now for instance?” We were again sitting out after dinner, and as he spoke I felt it with far greater intensity than ever before. And at the same moment the house-door which had been closed, though probably not latched, swung gently open, letting out a shaft of light from the hall, and as gently swung to again, as if something had stealthily entered. “Yes,” I said. “I felt it then. I only feel it in the evening. It was rather bad that time.” Jack was silent a moment. “Funny thing the door opening and shutting like that,” he said. “Let’s go indoors.” We got up and I remember seeing at that moment that the windows of my bedroom were lit; Mrs Franklyn probably was making things ready for the night. Simultaneously, as we crossed the gravel, there came from just inside the house the sound of a hurried footstep on the stairs, and entering we found Mrs Franklyn in the hall, looking rather white and startled. “Anything wrong?” I asked. She took two or three quick breaths before she answered: “No, sir,” she said, “at least nothing that I can give an account of. I was tidying up in your room, and I thought you came in. But there was nobody, and it gave me a turn. I left my candle there; I must go up for it.” I waited in the hall a moment, while she again ascended the stairs, and passed along the gallery to my room. At the door, which I could see was open, she paused, not entering. “What is the matter?” I asked from below. “I left the candle alight,” she said, “and it’s gone out.” Jack laughed. “And you left the door and window open,” said he. “Yes, sir, but not a breath of wind is stirring,” said Mrs Franklyn, rather faintly. This was true, and yet a few moments ago the heavy hall-door had swung open and back again. Jack ran upstairs. “We’ll brave the dark together, Mrs Franklyn,” he said. He went into my room, and I heard the sound of a match struck. Then through the open door came the light of the rekindled candle and simultaneously I heard a bell ring in the servant’s quarters. In a moment came steps, and Franklyn appeared. “What bell was that?” I asked. “Mr Jack’s bedroom, sir,” he said.