entrance of the corridor a long thread of bluish light, seemed to
guide him a few steps. Then he groped his way with arms extended
and touching the wall. Every few steps he stopped and listened,
and repeated in a voice hoarse with excitement:

"Who's there? You who are moaning, can I do anything to help you?"

Nothing answered him except the beating of his heart, and the
murmur of the wind, which continued to torment the hinges of the
dormer window.

The gallery into which Gilbert had entered was divided halfway in
its length by two steps, at the bottom of which was a large iron
door, always kept open during the day, but closed and double-locked
as night set in. Approaching this, Gilbert saw a feeble light
glimmering beneath the door. He descended the steps, and looking
through the key-hole, from which the key had been withdrawn, saw
what changed the frightful anguish he had just been suffering into
surprise and terror.

At twenty paces from him he saw the appalling figure of a phantom
standing erect; it was enveloped in a large white cloth wound
several times round its body, passing under its left arm, and
falling over the right shoulder. In one hand it held a torch and a
sword, in the other an oval ebony frame of which Gilbert could only
see the back, but which seemed to inclose a portrait. The face of
this specter was emaciated, drawn, and of unusual length; its skin,
withered and dry, seemed to be incrusted upon its bones, its
complexion was sallow; a profuse perspiration trickled from its
brows and glued the hair to its temples. Nothing could describe