husband, drank with a quiet smile, and passed it on to Camelford. And
Camelford drank, looking at nobody, and replaced the glass upon the
table.

"Come," said the little old gentleman to Mrs. Camelford, "you are the
only one left. The whole thing will be incomplete without you."

"I have no wish to drink," said Mrs. Camelford, and her eyes sought
those of her husband, but he would not look at her.

"Come," again urged the Figure. And then Camelford looked at her and
laughed drily.

"You had better drink," he said. "It's only a dream."

"If you wish it," she answered. And it was from his hands she took
the glass.

***

It is from the narrative as Armitage told it to me that night in the
Club smoking-room that I am taking most of my material. It seemed to
him that all things began slowly to rise upward, leaving him
stationary, but with a great pain as though the inside of him were
being torn away--the same sensation greatly exaggerated, so he likened
it, as descending in a lift. But around him all the time was silence
and darkness unrelieved. After a period that might have been minutes,
that might have been years, a faint light crept towards him. It grew
stronger, and into the air which now fanned his cheek there stole the
sound of far-off music. The light and the music both increased, and