twice they seemed to hear the grunting of pigs in the undergrowth and to
catch sight of bristly backs.

"We don't seem to be getting any nearer the end," said Stewart after
a time. "I think we've taken the wrong path." They stopped. "I remember
that tree," said Stewart, pointing to a twisted oak; "we must go
straight on from there to the left." They walked on and in ten minutes'
time found themselves once more at the back of the house. It was now
quite dark.

"We shall never find the way now," said Lewis. "We had better sleep in
the house." They walked through the house into one of the furthest rooms
and settled themselves on the mossy platform. The night was warm and
starry, the house deathly still except for the splashing of the water in
the basin.

"We shan't get any food," Lewis said.

"I'm not hungry," said Stewart, and Lewis knew that he could not have
eaten anything to save his life. He felt utterly exhausted and yet not
at all sleepy. Stewart, on the other hand, was overcome with drowsiness.
He lay down on the mossy platform and fell asleep almost instantly.
Lewis lit a pipe; the vague forebodings he had felt in the morning
had returned to him, only increased tenfold. He felt an unaccountable
physical discomfort, an inexplicable sensation of uneasiness. Then he
realised what it was. He felt there was someone in the house besides
themselves, someone or something that was always behind him, moving when
he moved and watching him. He walked into the _impluvium_, but heard
nothing and saw nothing. There were none of the thousand little sounds,
such as the barking of a dog, or the hoot of a night-bird, which