* * * * *

There I stood and hesitated, trembling in every limb; I dared not open
the door. No words of mine can convey the sense of utter desolation that
overpowered me. I felt as though I were the only living man in the whole
world.

"_Frank! Frank!_" cries the voice with the dreadful familiar ring in it.
"Open the door; I am so cold. I have so little time."

My heart stood still, and yet my hands were constrained to obey. Slowly,
slowly I lifted the latch and unbarred the door, and, as I did so, a
great rush of air snatched it from my hands and swept it wide. The black
clouds had broken a little overhead, and there was a patch of blue,
rain-washed sky with just a star or two glimmering in it fitfully. For
a moment I could only see this bit of sky, but by degrees I made out the
accustomed outline of the great trees swinging furiously against it,
and the rigid line of the coping of the garden wall beneath them. Then a
whirling leaf hit me smartly on the face, and instinctively I dropped
my eyes on to something that as yet I could not distinguish--something
small and black and wet.

"What are you?" I gasped. Somehow I seemed to feel that it was not a
person--I could not say, _Who_ are you?

"Don't you know me?" wailed the voice, with the far-off familiar ring
about it. "And I mayn't come in and show myself. I haven't the time. You
were so long opening the door, Frank, and I am so cold--oh, so bitterly
cold! Look there, the moon is coming out, and you will be able to see