And then, with a slow gliding motion, _something_ entered,--something tall, gaunt and robed in long, pale-coloured draperies. It was unreal, shadowy in its aspect, it was only dimly visible in the gloom, but it gave the impression of a frightened, furtive personality that hesitated to move, yet was impelled to. A soft moan, as of despair, came from the figure, and it put out a long white hand and pinched out the candle flame. Then, with another sigh, Eve could _feel_, in the utter black darkness that the thing was coming to her side. With all her might she tried to cry out, but her vocal cords were dumb, she made no sound. But she felt,--with all her senses, she _felt_ the apparition draw nearer. At her bedside it paused, she knew this, by a sort of sixth sense, for she heard or saw nothing. Then, she was conscious of a faint odour of prussic acid, its pungent bitterness unmistakable, though slight. And then, a tiny flame, as of a wick without a candle, flashed for a second, disappeared, and Eve almost fainted. She did not entirely lose consciousness, but her brain reeled, her head seemed to spin round and her ears rang with a strange buzzing, for in the instant's gleam of that weird light, she had seen the face of the phantom, and--it was the face of a skull! It was the ghastly countenance of a death's head! Half conscious, but listening with abnormal sense, she thought she descried the closing of the door, but could hear no key turn. The knowledge that she was alone, gave her new life. She sprang up, lighted the candle, lighted the lamp, and looked about. All was as she had arranged it. The door was locked, the key, untouched, upon the table. Nothing was disturbed, but Eve Carnforth knew that her experience, whatever its explanation, had not been a dream. When her senses had reeled, she had not lost entire control of them through her physical fear, she had kept her mental balance, and she _knew_ that what her brain had registered had actually occurred. Alert, she lay for a long time thinking it over. She felt sure there would be no return of the spectre,--she felt sure it had been a spectre,--and she was conscious of a feeling of curiosity rather than fright. At last she rose, and unlocking the door, went out into the great hall. By the light of her lamp, she looked it over. The carved bronze doors between the enormous bronze columns, were so elaborately locked and bolted as to give almost the effect of a fortress. The windows were fastened and some were barred. But all these details had been looked after in advance; Eve gazed at them now, in an idle quest for some hint of hitherto unsuspected ingress. But there was none, and now the clock was striking five. She went slowly upstairs, unlocked the various doors, without opening them, and then went to her own bedroom. "What about it?" cried Norma, eagerly, running to Eve's room.