"Close your shutters at night...."

How the words haunted him and how hotly he despised himself for a
growing apprehension which refused to be ignored. It was more mental
than physical, this dread which grew with the approach of midnight,
and it resembled that which had robbed him of individuality and all
but stricken him inert when he had seen upon the moon-bright screen of
the curtains the shadow of a cowled man.

Dark forces seemed to be stirring, and some unseen menace crept near
to him out of the darkness.

The house was of early Victorian fashion and massive folding shutters
were provided to close the French windows. He never used them, as a
matter of fact, but now he tested the fastenings which kept them in
place against the inner wall and even moved them in order to learn if
they were still serviceable.

Of all the mysteries which baffled him, that of the piece of
cardboard in the envelope sealed with a Chinese coin was the most
irritating. It seemed like the purposeless trick of a child, yet it
had led to the presence of the cowled man--and to the presence of
Mlle. Dorian. Why?

He sat down at his table again.

"Damn the whole business!" he said. "It is sending me crazy."

Selecting from the heap of documents a large sheet of note-paper