glance fell upon this door, and at once I saw that the book
described, if book it may be called, was gone. Angrier than any
worth I knew in it justified, I rang the bell, and the butler
appeared. When I asked him if he knew what had befallen it, he
turned pale, and assured me he did not. I could less easily doubt
his word than my own eyes, for he had been all his life in the
family, and a more faithful servant never lived. He left on me
the impression, nevertheless, that he could have said something more.

In the afternoon I was again reading in the library, and coming to
a point which demanded reflection, I lowered the book and let my
eyes go wandering. The same moment I saw the back of a slender
old man, in a long, dark coat, shiny as from much wear, in the act
of disappearing through the masked door into the closet beyond. I
darted across the room, found the door shut, pulled it open, looked
into the closet, which had no other issue, and, seeing nobody,
concluded, not without uneasiness, that I had had a recurrence of
my former illusion, and sat down again to my reading.

Naturally, however, I could not help feeling a little nervous, and
presently glancing up to assure myself that I was indeed alone,
started again to my feet, and ran to the masked door--for there was
the mutilated volume in its place! I laid hold of it and pulled: it
was firmly fixed as usual!

I was now utterly bewildered. I rang the bell; the butler came;
I told him all I had seen, and he told me all he knew.

He had hoped, he said, that the old gentleman was going to be
forgotten; it was well no one but myself had seen him. He had