Nothing was wrong; everything was in its place. Yet something _was_
wrong! The conviction grew stronger and stronger within me.

When I at length settled down to my books again and tried to read, I
became aware, for the first time, that the room seemed growing cold. Yet
the day had been oppressively warm, and evening had brought no relief.
The six big lamps, moreover, gave out heat enough to warm the room
pleasantly. But a chilliness, that perhaps crept up from the lake, made
itself felt in the room, and caused me to get up to close the glass door
opening on to the verandah.

For a brief moment I stood looking out at the shaft of light that fell
from the windows and shone some little distance down the pathway, and
out for a few feet into the lake.

As I looked, I saw a canoe glide into the pathway of light, and
immediately crossing it, pass out of sight again into the darkness. It
was perhaps a hundred feet from the shore, and it moved swiftly.

I was surprised that a canoe should pass the island at that time of
night, for all the summer visitors from the other side of the lake had
gone home weeks before, and the island was a long way out of any line of
water traffic.

My reading from this moment did not make very good progress, for somehow
the picture of that canoe, gliding so dimly and swiftly across the
narrow track of light on the black waters, silhouetted itself against
the background of my mind with singular vividness. It kept coming
between my eyes and the printed page. The more I thought about it the
more surprised I became. It was of larger build than any I had seen