could clearly trace the form of the bracket, and determine how it was
fastened into place, yet to my astonishment there was no remnant of
candle remaining in the empty socket. Grease, still warm to the touch,
proved conclusively that I had attained the right spot in my search,
yet the candle itself had disappeared. Beyond doubt the draught of air
had been sufficiently strong to dislodge it from the shallow socket,
and it had fallen to the floor. I felt about on hands and knees, but
without result, and finally, in sheer desperation, struck my last
match. The tiny flare was sufficient to reveal the entire floor space
as well as the wall, but there was no remnant of candle visible. I
held the sliver of wood, until the flame scorched my fingers, staring
about in bewilderment. Then the intense darkness shut me in.

I crouched back to the wall, revolver in hand, and it seemed as though
the blood in my veins had turned to ice. What legerdemain was this!
The candle was there, and not half burned, when I entered. I saw it
with my own eyes. How then--in the name of God--could it have vanished
so completely? There was no germ of superstition in my nature, and,
had there originally been, it could never have out lived the practical
experiences of the past few years. There was but one way to account
for this occurrence--some human, aware of my presence, had removed the
candle, had stolen through the pitch darkness silently, and as swiftly
disappeared. I was locked in, trapped, and not alone!

I confess for an instant I was panic-stricken, shrinking back from the
horror of the black unknown which enveloped me. I could see and hear
nothing, yet I seemed to feel a ghastly presence skulking behind that
impenetrable veil. My first inclination was to creep back to the door,
and escape into the outer passage. Yet pride restrained me, pride
quickly supplemented by a return of courage. It was a man surely, a