me. The cry awakened Coates. I heard the pad of his bare feet upon the
floor as he leaped out of bed, and an instant later his door was
opened and he came blundering out into the darkened passage.

"Hello, sir!" he cried, in a half-dazed voice. "Here, Coates!" I
replied, and my tones were far from normal.

Falling over a chair on his way, Coates came running into the study.
An impression I had of a flying shape, and the dimly seen square of
the open window (for that side of the cottage lay in shadow) seemed
momentarily to become blackened.

"Bring a light, Coates!" I cried. "The lamp has gone out."

"Matches on the table, sir," said Coates.

Instantly I remembered that this was the case, that they lay in fact
near to my hand. I struck one, and in its flickering light looked
about the room. My visitor had gone--palpably through the window, for
certainly the front door had not been opened.

"She has gone, Coates!" I exclaimed.

And on this occasion it was Coates who repeated in an amazed voice:

"_She_?"

But even as he spoke, my attention had become diverted.

I was staring at that portion of the table upon which Maspero's book