together to his room.

"That eye came twice last night," he said in an awestruck whisper to me.
"I am a doomed man--a doomed man. I cannot bear this any longer."

We were standing in the room as he said the words. Even in broad
daylight, I could see that he glanced round him with apprehension. He
was shaking quite visibly. The room was decidedly old-fashioned, but the
greater part of the furniture was modern. The bed was an Albert one with
a spring mattress, and light, cheerful dimity hangings. The windows were
French--they were wide open, and let in the soft, pleasant air, for the
day was truly a spring one in winter. The paper on the walls was light.

"This is a quaint old wardrobe," I said. "It looks out of place with the
rest of the furniture. Why don't you have it removed?"

[Illustration: "DON'T GO NEAR IT--I DREAD IT!"]

"Hush," he said, with a gasp. "Don't go near it--I dread it, I have
locked it. It is always in that direction that the apparition appears.
The apparition seems to grow out of the glass of the wardrobe. It always
appears in that one spot."

"I see," I answered. "The wardrobe is built into the wall. That is the
reason it cannot be removed. Have you got the key about you?"

He fumbled in his pocket, and presently produced a bunch of keys.

"I wish you wouldn't open the wardrobe," he said. "I frankly admit that
I dislike having it touched."