“Did it remind you of what had been done yesterday morning?” he asked suddenly. Again the man hesitated. “Yes, sir,” he said at length. “Convict Charles Linkworth.” Dr Teesdale nodded reassuringly. “That’s it,” he said. “Now, are you on duty to-night?” “Yes, sir, I wish I wasn’t.” “I know how you feel, I have felt exactly the same myself. Now whatever this is, it seems to want to communicate with me. By the way, did you have any disturbance in the prison last night?” “Yes, sir, there was half a dozen men who had the nightmare. Yelling and screaming they were, and quiet men too, usually. It happens sometimes the night after an execution. I’ve known it before, though nothing like what it was last night.” “I see. Now, if this--this thing you can’t see wants to get at the telephone again to-night, give it every chance. It will probably come about the same time. I can’t tell you why, but that usually happens. So unless you must, don’t be in this room where the telephone is, just for an hour to give it plenty of time between half past nine and half past ten. I will be ready for it at the other end. Supposing I am rung up, I will, when it has finished, ring you up to make sure that I was not being called in--in the usual way. “And there is nothing to be afraid of, sir?” asked the man. Dr Teesdale remembered his own moment of terror this morning, but he spoke quite sincerely. “I am sure there is nothing to be afraid of,” he said, reassuringly. Dr Teesdale had a dinner engagement that night, which he broke, and was sitting alone in his study by half past nine. In the present state of human ignorance as to the law which governs the movements of spirits severed from the body, he could not tell the warder why it was that their visits are so often periodic, timed to punctuality according to our scheme of hours, but in scenes of tabulated instances of the appearance of _revenants_, especially if the soul was in sore need of help, as might be the case here, he found that they came at the same hour of day or night. As a rule, too, their power of making themselves seen or heard or felt, grew greater for some little while after death, subsequently growing weaker as they became less earth-bound, or often after that ceasing altogether, and he was prepared to-night for a less indistinct impression. The spirit apparently for the early hours of its disembodiment is weak, like a moth newly broken out from its chrysalis--and then suddenly the telephone bell rang, not so faintly as the night before, but still not with its ordinary imperative tone. Dr Teesdale instantly got up, put the receiver to his ears. And what he heard was heart-broken sobbing, strong spasms that seemed to tear the weeper. He waited for a little before speaking, himself cold with some nameless fear, and yet profoundly moved to help, if he was able.