don't think my nerve is as good as it was."

"Your nerve, Walters? I should not have thought you had a nerve
in your body."

"Well, sir, it's this lonely, silent house and the queer thing in
the kitchen. Then when you tapped at the window I thought it had
come again."

"That what had come again?"

"The devil, sir, for all I know. It was at the window."

"What was at the window, and when?"

"It was just about two hours ago. The light was just fading. I
was sitting reading in the chair. I don't know what made me look
up, but there was a face looking in at me through the lower pane.
Lord, sir, what a face it was! I'll see it in my dreams."

"Tut, tut, Walters. This is not talk for a police-constable."

"I know, sir, I know; but it shook me, sir, and there's no use to
deny it. It wasn't black, sir, nor was it white, nor any colour
that I know but a kind of queer shade like clay with a splash of
milk in it. Then there was the size of it--it was twice yours,
sir. And the look of it--the great staring goggle eyes, and the
line of white teeth like a hungry beast. I tell you, sir, I
couldn't move a finger, nor get my breath, till it whisked away
and was gone. Out I ran and through the shrubbery, but thank God