Thinking, reflecting, pondering, resolving, I still lay there, when suddenly I became conscious that my friend in the adjoining room was no longer snoring. I heard a curious sound. He gave a quick, loud gasp, as though of alarm, followed by a murmured growl. Was he speaking in his sleep? I listened attentively until my ears caught another sound. He had risen and was moving about his room. I was rather pleased than otherwise, for it relieved the tension, and I breathed more freely. The apparition of that claw-like hand before my face had, I believe, somewhat upset my nerves. "Is that you, Shaw?" I called out, but there was no response. All was quiet. The movement in the adjoining room had ceased. Already I had satisfied myself that nobody could enter my room, both doors being bolted on the inside, but I slipped again out of bed, and, going to the communicating door, rapped upon it, crying-- "Shaw! Shaw! Are you asleep?" "Hulloa?" growled a sleepy voice. "Why, what's up, eh?" "Nothing," I laughed. "Are you still in bed?" "Of course I am, why? What's the matter? Anything wrong?" "No, nothing," I replied. "Only I heard you groaning, that's all. Talking in your sleep, I expect." "I--I didn't know," he said. "Sorry, Kemball, if I disturbed you." "All right," I laughed, and then returned to bed again. I pondered over the fact that while he certainly had been upon, his feet--for I distinctly heard the creaking of the beeswaxed boards--a moment before I called, yet he made pretence of being asleep. The only explanation was that, while asleep, he had got out of bed, a not unusual circumstance with some people, and with that surmise I had to be content. Truly, that night had been fraught with a strange inexplicable terror. Though dawn spread slowly, and from where I lay I could see the first flush of crimson in the sky heralding the sun's coming, yet I could not rid myself of that phantom hand, those thin skeleton fingers that had touched my cheek and left a chilly impression upon it. I rose and looked into the tiny oval toilet-glass, startled when I saw evidence that my experience was an actual tangible one. Upon my left cheek was a faint red mark, almost like a scratch, where the chilly hand had touched me! Carefully I examined it, but there seemed no abrasion of the skin. By the deadly contact it had been irritated, inflamed--seared, it seemed, by the chill finger of the dreaded Unknown. Moving without a sound, so as not to attract Shaw's attention, I made a minute survey of the apartment, examining the walls to assure myself of no hidden doorway such as are common in old houses of that description. But there was none. The only modes of ingress were both securely locked and bolted.