Speak to him of some weird spell over this strong frame! Speak to him of
a mystic trance in which has been stolen what he confided to me, without
my knowledge! What will he say? What should I have said a few days ago
to any man who told such a tale to me?" I did not wait to resolve these
questions. I entered the room. There was Strahan sound asleep on his
bed. I shook him roughly. He started up, rubbed his eyes. "You,
Allen,--you! What the deuce?--what 's the matter?"

"Strahan, I have been robbed!--robbed of the manuscript you lent me. I
could not rest till I had told you."

"Robbed, robbed! Are you serious?"

By this time Strahan had thrown off the bed-clothes, and sat upright,
staring at me.

And then those questions which my mind had suggested while I was standing
at his door repeated themselves with double force. Tell this man, this
unimaginative, hard-headed, raw-boned, sandy-haired North
countryman,--tell this man a story which the most credulous school-girl
would have rejected as a fable! Impossible!

"I fell asleep," said I, colouring and stammering, for the slightest
deviation from truth was painful to me, "and-and--when I awoke--the
manuscript was gone. Some one must have entered and committed the
theft--"

"Some one entered the house at this hour of the night and then only stolen
a manuscript which could be of no value to him! Absurd! If thieves have
come in it must be for other objects,--for plate, for money. I will