chimney-piece . . . and on a sudden faced about again.

He had a sensation that someone was in the room--someone standing
close behind him.

But no. . . . For the briefest instant his eyes rested on an
indistinct shadow--his own perhaps, cast by the candle-light?
Yet why should it lie lengthwise there, shaped like a coffin, on the
dark polished table that occupied the middle of the room?

The answer was that it did not. Before he could rub his eyes
it had gone. Moreover, he had turned to recognise a living
being . . . and no living person was in the room, unless by chance
(absurd supposition) one were hidden behind the dark red window
curtains.

"Recognise" may seem a strange word to use; but here had lain the
strangeness of the sensation--that the someone standing there was a
friend, waiting to be greeted. It was with eagerness and a curious
warmth of the heart that Lieutenant Lapenotiere had faced about--upon
nothing.

He continued to stare in a puzzled way at the window curtains, when a
voice by the door said:

"Good evening!--or perhaps, to be correct, good morning! You are Mr.--"

"Lapenotiere," answered the Lieutenant, who had turned sharply.
The voice--a gentleman's and pleasantly modulated--was not one he
knew; nor did he recognise the speaker--a youngish, shrewd-looking