I called the owners of the inn and related to them what had taken
place. They received my statement with perfect equanimity, and
told me that in their house this was the normal state of things,
of which, in fact, they were extremely proud; and they ended by
congratulating me as a visitor much favored by the invisible agencies
of the place.

"We call them our Lights," they said.

"It is true," I observed, "that I saw lights in the air about the
room, but they went out instantaneously, and left only smoke behind
them. And why do they write backwards? Who are They?"

As I asked this last question, the pencil on the table rose again,
and wrote thus on the paper:--

".ksatonoD"

Again horror seized on me, and the air becoming full of smoke I
found it impossible to breathe. "Let me out!" I cried, "I am stifled
here,--the air is full of smoke!"

"Outside," the people of the house answered, "you will lose your way;
it is quite dark, and we have no other rooms to let. And, besides,
it is the same in all the other apartments of the inn."

"But the place is haunted!" I cried; and I pushed past them, and
burst out of the house.

Before the doorway stood a tall veiled figure, like translucent silver.