gaze suspiciously fixed upon their guest, but every now and then they turned to interlock glances, and it was impossible not to suspect that some unspoken communication passed between them.
Now, after her pause, the woman, instructed evidently by her husband, replied that if the gentleman could put up with a very poor bedroom they had one at his disposal, but that they did not lay themselves out to accommodate visitors for the night, and the only decent room the house contained they occupied themselves. The one which they could give monsieur had a bed in it certainly, but it was over the stable, it was very bare, it was
Raymond cut short her litany of its deficiencies by his cheerful assurance that it would do perfectly well, and having finished his supper announced his desire to go to bed at once.
Taking the lamp out of its swinging ring and leaving the room and her husband in more than semi-darkness, the woman led the way upstairs, then through a long and narrow passage, which now mounted a step or two, now descended again, to a small room at the farthest end of it; a lonely and dilapidated little room with a dormer window and a slanting roof.
There was no curtain to the window, no carpet on the floor, no furniture but one rickety, rush-bottomed chair, a pedestal table, a washstand holding a chipped basin and a handleless ewer, and a pallet bed. But Raymond noticed that the sheet were exquisitely white and clean, while the room was rain-proof at least. So, well disposed to make the best of the curcumstances, he bade the woman a pleasant "good-night."
It was not until her retreating footsteps were no longer heard along the passage that he realized she had left him neither matches nor a candle, but had set the lamp down upon the table and gone away in the dark. However, it did not signify, since matches he had in his own pocket, and should he need the lamp again after extinguishing it, it would not be an affair of much difficulty to re-light it.
But first, by an instinct of prudence which surprised himself, he began by carefully examining the room and turning the key in the door.
The examination of the room led to the finding of a cupboard in which hung some frouzy garments, and on pushing these aside Raymond was startled to discover that in the back of the cupboard there was a second door. To this door there was a lock, but no key or any other means of fastening it, and it opened inwards, though with difficulty, on account of the heavy winter clothes hanging over it.
Where it led to he felt too tired to investigate, almost too tired to care; yet he carried the washstand inside the cupboard and set it against the inner door, arranging the crockery in such a manner that the door could not be opened without causing clatter sufficient to awaken him, and then, satisfied with his precautions, he turned the lamp-flame down, let it flicker out, and in two minutes was very fast asleep.
He awoke very suddenly.
For how long he had slept he could form no idea. The room was completely dark and the silence was profound.
Yet he had a conviction that he had been awakened by a noise within the cupboard. He listened attentively, and surely heard someone gently trying the handle of the inner door.
"Who's there?" he shouted, and struck a match.
All was still.
With some difficulty he removed the lamp's chimney, re-lighted the wick, and when it burned steady took it over to the cupboard. Everything remained as he had arranged it—not a sound broke the silence, not a mouse stirred.
He came to the conclusion that he had dreamed the noise of the turned handle, and with sufficient vividness to wake himself up.
Nevertheless, he now added the table and chair to the barricade within the cupboard, put the lamp down on the floor by the window to burn itself out, and went back to bed, to again fall asleep.
But now he dreamed a dream which was so consequent in its happenings, and which remained so clearly impressed upon his mind next morning, that he could call it up with absolute accuracy of detail across the intervening years.
In this dream he stood in the sordid attic, and a man, either himself or another, lay sleeping in the bed. And while he looked curiously at the sleeper, trying to make out his identity, there came again the noise at the cupboard's inner door.
Raymond fixed his eyes upon the door and saw it begin to move slowly inwards, until it stood wide open. Now a flash of yellow light showed the top rungs of a ladder leading up to the threshold, and a black abyss beyond. The innkeeper's head
