acters and uncanny apparitions, and found my way, shiveringly and in haste, to bed.
Had I really been asleep? I do not know. I know a longer or shorter interregnum of dark and silence had followed the extinguishing of my light, and that I had lost consciousness when something wakened me.
Up I sprang with the familiar exclamation, "Who's there?"
No reply, but a swishing sound, soft and continuous, smote my ear in such wise as to make it tingle with anything but pleasing sensations.
"Who's there?" again demanded I, this time defiantly.
Again no answer, but stillness fell for a space.
Softly I got out of bed, and, as well as I could, steered for the gas-burner and the match-safe with intent to cast some light upon the matter, but alas, was foiled on reaching them by the discovery of one headless stick and two burned ones.
The silence continued.
"Sheer imagination," said I to myself jeeringly, and retraced my steps through the room.
Swish, swish, went the noise, and I sat up again—swish, swish, swish.
Rats? No; it was not like rats. No gnawing, no scamper, no patter.
Wind? Perhaps so. There is no accounting for some of its demonstrations. I shook up the pillow and composed myself to sleep once more.
It was no use—swash went something.
I scrambled out this time in dire earnest. A light I must have. A light I would have. There were no matches. I stumbled my way to the hall door, and cautiously opened it. No light. No stir. I shut the door and turned back into the room.
Seemingly the fire had died, but I found my way to the grate and poked at it gingerly, till through the ashes I saw the glimmering hint of an ember, and blew at it till my throat was dry, in a vain effort to light a scrap of paper,
