stayed me by a gesture. I looked at him, deadly pale, with blue shadows
about the mouth and eyes, his head thrown helplessly back, and then I
remembered some brandy I had in my dressing-bag. He took the glass from
me and raised it to his lips with a trembling hand. I stood watching
him, debating within myself whether I should disobey him by calling for
help or not; but presently, to my great relief, I saw the stimulant take
effect, and life come slowly surging back in colour to his cheeks, in
strength to his whole prostrate frame. He straightened himself a little,
and turned upon me a less distracted gaze than before.

"Mr. Lyndsay, there is something horrible in this house."

"Have you seen it?"

He shook his head.

"I saw nothing; it is what I felt."

He shuddered.

I looked towards the grate. The fire had long been out, but the wood was
still unconsumed, and I managed, inexpertly enough, to relight it. When
a long blue flame sprang up, he drew his chair near the hearth and
stretched towards the blaze his still tremulous hands.

"Mr. Lyndsay," he said, in a voice as strangely altered as his whole
appearance, "may I sit here a little--till it is light? I dread to go
back to that room. But don't let me keep you up."

I said, and in all honesty, that I had no inclination to sleep. I put on