thing that is dead and rigid. But with an effort I sent such thoughts

to the right-about. The long, drafty subterranean passage was chilly and

dusty, and my candle flared and made the shadows cower and quiver. The

echoes rang up and down the spiral staircase, and a shadow came sweeping

up after me, and another fled before me into the darkness overhead. I

came to the wide landing and stopped there for a moment listening to a

rustling that I fancied I heard creeping behind me, and then, satisfied

of the absolute silence, pushed open the unwilling baize-covered door

and stood in the silent corridor.

The effect was scarcely what I expected, for the moonlight, coming in by

the great window on the grand staircase, picked out everything in vivid

black shadow or reticulated silvery illumination. Everything seemed in

its proper position; the house might have been deserted on the yesterday

instead of twelve months ago. There were candles in the sockets of

the sconces, and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or upon the

polished flooring was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in my

candlelight. A waiting stillness was over everything. I was about to

advance, and stopped abruptly. A bronze group stood upon the landing

hidden from me by a corner of the wall; but its shadow fell with

marvelous distinctness upon the white paneling, and gave me the

impression of some one crouching to waylay me. The thing jumped upon

my attention suddenly. I stood rigid for half a moment, perhaps. Then,

with my hand in the pocket that held the revolver, I advanced, only

to discover a Ganymede and Eagle, glistening in the moonlight. That

incident for a time restored my nerve, and a dim porcelain Chinaman on a

The Red Room