"I say that last night, as I was going upstairs to bed, I felt something accompanying me and nestling up against me." "How horrible!" exclaimed the Father, involuntarily. Guildea smiled drearily. "I will not deny the horror of it. I cannot, since I was compelled to call on Pitting for assistance." "But--tell me--what was it, at least what did it seem to be?" "It seemed to be a human being. It seemed, I say; and what I mean exactly is that the effect upon me was rather that of human contact than of anything else. But I could see nothing, hear nothing. Only, three times, I felt this gentle, but determined, push against me, as if to coax me and to attract my attention. The first time it happened I was on the landing outside this room, with my foot on the first stair. I will confess to you, Murchison, that I bounded upstairs like one pursued. That is the shameful truth. Just as I was about to enter my bedroom, however, I felt the thing entering with me, and, as I have said, squeezing, with loathsome, sickening tenderness, against my side. Then----" He paused, turned towards the fire and leaned his head on his arm. The Father was greatly moved by the strange helplessness and despair of the attitude. He laid his hand affectionately on Guildea's shoulder. "Then?" Guildea lifted his head. He looked painfully abashed. "Then, Murchison, I am ashamed to say I broke down, suddenly, unaccountably, in a way I should have thought wholly impossible to me. I struck out with my hands to thrust the thing away. It pressed more closely to me. The pressure, the contact became unbearable to me. I shouted out for Pitting. I--I believe I must have cried--'Help.'" "He came, of course?" "Yes, with his usual soft, unemotional quiet. His calm--its opposition to my excitement of disgust and horror--must, I suppose, have irritated me. I was not myself, no, no!" He stopped abruptly. Then-- "But I need hardly tell you that," he added, with most piteous irony. "And what did you say to Pitting?" "I said that he should have been quicker. He begged my pardon. His cold voice really maddened me, and I burst out into some foolish, contemptible diatribe, called him a machine, taunted him, then--as I felt that loathsome thing nestling once more to me,--begged him to assist me, to stay with me, not to leave me alone--I meant in the company of my tormentor. Whether he was frightened, or whether he was angry at my unjust and violent manner and speech a moment before, I don't know. In any case he answered that he was engaged as a butler, and not to sit up all night with people. I suspect he thought I had taken too much to drink. No doubt that was it. I believe I swore at him as a coward--I! This morning he said he wished to leave my service. I gave him a month's wages, a good character as a butler, and sent him off at once." "But the night? How did you pass it?" "I sat up all night." "Where? In your bedroom?" "Yes--with the door open--to let it go."