not afraid. His anxieties had at last assumed definite shape; it was
possible now to be on his guard. It is only invisible, incomprehensible
fear, crouching upon us from the night, that drives sensitive natures to
the verge of madness and transforms stern warriors into cowards.

Ernest realised the necessity of postponing the proposed investigation
of Reginald's papers until the morning, as it was now near eleven, and
he expected to hear at any moment the sound of his feet at the door.
Before retiring he took a number of precautions. Carefully he locked the
door to his bedroom and placed a chair in front of it. To make doubly
sure, he fastened the handle to an exquisite Chinese vase, a gift of
Reginald's, that at the least attempt to force an entrance from without
would come down with a crash.

Then, although sleep seemed out of the question, he went to bed. He had
hardly touched the pillow when a leaden weight seemed to fall upon his
eyes. The day's commotion had been too much for his delicate frame. By
force of habit he pulled the cover over his ear and fell asleep.

All night he slept heavily, and the morning was far advanced when a
knock at the door that, at first, seemed to come across an immeasurable
distance, brought him back to himself. It was Reginald's manservant
announcing that breakfast was waiting.

Ernest got up and rubbed his eyes. The barricade at the door at once
brought back to his mind with startling clearness the events of the
previous evening.

Everything was as he had left it. Evidently no one had attempted to
enter the room while he slept. He could not help smiling at the