They gazed at her open-mouthed, incredulous. Then a still, quiet voice
from the outside of the little circle intervened.

"Instruct your servants, Mr. Rheinholdt, to lock and bar all the doors of
the house," the Professor suggested. "No one must leave it until we have
heard your mother's story."

The young man obeyed almost mechanically. There was a general exodus of
servants from the room. Some one had brought Mrs. Rheinholdt a glass of
champagne. She sipped it and gradually recovered her voice.

"I had just taken the Professor into the little room my husband used to
call the museum," she explained, her voice still shaking with agitation.
"I left him there to examine some specimens of beetles. I thought that I
would come back through the conservatory, which is the quickest way. I was
about half-way across it when suddenly I heard the switch go behind me and
all the electric lights were turned out. I couldn't imagine what had
happened. While I hesitated, I saw--I saw--"

She broke down again. There was no doubt about the genuineness of her
terror. She seemed somehow to have shrunken into the semblance of a
smaller woman. The pupils of her eyes were distended, she was white almost
to the lips. When she recommenced her story, her voice was fainter.

"I saw a pair of hands--just hands--no arms--nothing but hands--come out
of the darkness! They gripped me by the throat. I suppose it was just for
a second. I think--I lost consciousness for a moment, although I was still
standing up. The next thing I remember is that I found myself shrieking
and running here--and the jewels had gone!"