light　which　lent　to　all　its　objects　that　vague　flatness　from　which
  the　imagination　carves　what　shapes。　　it　lists。　　As　Gwen　reached　for
  the　picture；　a　sudden　conviction　possessed　her　that　her　father
  stood　just　behind　her　in　the　exact　spot　where　he　had　met　his　death；
  …　that　if　she　turned　she　would　see　him　again　with　his　hand　clutching
  his　throat　and　his　eyes　starting　from　their　sockets　with　that
  never…to…be…forgotten　look　of　frenzied　helplessness。
  It　would　be　difficult　to　find　a　woman　upon　whom　superstition　has　so
  slight　a　hold　as　it　has　upon　Gwen　Darrow；　yet；　for　all　that；　it
  required　an　effort　for　her　to　turn　and　gaze　toward　the　centre　of
  the　room。　　A　dim；　ill…defined　stain　of　light　fell　momentarily　upon
  the　chair　in　which　the　dead　man　had　sat；　and　then　flickered
  unsteadily　across　the　room　and；　as　it　seemed　to　her；　out　through
  its　western　side；　the　while　a　faint；　rustling　sound　caught　her　ear。
  She　was　plainly　conscious；　too；　of　a　something　swishing　by　her；　as
  if　a　strong　draught　had　just　fallen　upon　her。　　She　was　not　naturally
  superstitious；　as　I　have　said　before；　yet　there　was　something　in　the
  gloom；　the　deserted　house；　and　this　fatal　room　with　its　untold　story
  of　death　which；　added　to　her　weird　perceptions　and　that　indescribable
  conviction　of　an　unseen　presence；　caused　even　Gwen　to　press　her　hand
  convulsively　upon　her　throbbing　heart。　　For　the　first　time　in　her
  life　the　awful　possibilities　of　darkness　were　fully　borne　in　upon
  her　and　she　knew　just　how　her　father　had　felt。
  In　a　moment；　however；　she　had　recovered　from　her　first　shock　and　had
  begun　to　reason。　　Might　not　the　sound　she　had　heard；　and　the　movement
  she　had　felt；　both　be　explained　by　an　open　window？　　She　knew　she　had
  closed　and　locked　all　the　windows　of　the　room　when　she　had　finished
  airing　it　after　the　funeral；　and　she　was　not　aware　that　anyone　had
  been　there　since；　yet　she　said　to　herself　that　perhaps　one　of　the
  servants　had　come　in　and　opened　a　window　without　her　knowledge。　　She
  turned　and　looked。　　The　lower　sash　of　the　eastern　window　…　the　one
  through　which　she　felt　sure　death　had　approached　her　father　…　was
  raised　to　its　utmost。
  〃How=20fortunate；〃　she　murmured；　〃that　I　discovered　this　before
  leaving。〃
  She　was　all　but　fully　reassured　now；　as　she　stepped　to　the　window
  to　close　it。　　Remembering　how　the　sash　stuck　in　the　casing　she
  raised　both　hands　to　forcibly　lower　it。　　As　she　did　so　a　strong
  arm　caught　the　sash　from　the　outer　side；　and　a　stalwart　masculine
  form　arose　directly　in　front　of　her。　　His　great　height　brought　his
  head　almost　to　a　level　with　her　own；　despite　the　fact　that　he　was
  standing　upon　the　ground　outside。　　He　was　so　near　that　she　could
  feel　his　breath　upon　her　face。　　His　eyes；　like　two　great　coals　of
  fire；　blazed　into　hers　with　a　sinister　and　threatening　light。　　His
  countenance　seemed　to　utterly　surpass　any　personal　malignancy　and
  to　exhibit　itself　as　a　type　of　all　the　hatreds　that　ever　poisoned
  human　hearts。
  Only　a　moment　before　Gwen　had　felt　a　creepy；　sickening　sensation
  stealing　over　her　as　the　result　of　an　ill…defined　and　apparently
  causeless　dread。　　Now　an　actual；　imminent；　and　fearful　peril
  confronted　her。　　Under　such　circumstances　most　women　would　have
  fainted；　and；　indeed；　if　Gwen　had　herself　been　asked　how　she　would
  have　acted　under　such　a　supreme　test；　she　would　have　prophesied　the
  same　maidenly　course　as　her　own；　yet；　in　the　real　exigency　…　how
  little　do　we　know　of　ourselves；　save　what　actual　experience　has
  taught　us！　　…　this　is　precisely　what　she　did　not　do。　　When　the
  horrible　apparition　first　rose　in　her　very　face；　as　it　were；　a
  momentary　weakness　caught　her　and　she　clung　to　the　sash　for　support。
  Then　the　wonderful　fire　of　the　malignant　eyes；　green；　serpentine；
  opalescent；　with　the　wave…like　flux　of　a　glowworm's　light　seen
  under　a　glass；　riveted　her　attention。　　She　had　ceased　to　tremble。
  Our　fear　of　death　varies　with　our　desire　for　life。　　Dulled　by　a
  great　grief；　she　did　not　so　very　much　care　what　became　of　her。　　The
  future's　burden　was　heavy；　and　if　it　were　necessary　she　now　put　it
  down；　there　would　still　be　a　sense　of　relief。　　As　this　thought
  passed　like　a　shadow　over　her　consciousness　she　felt　herself
  irresistibly　attracted　to　the　awful　face　before　her。　　Her　assailant's
  gaze　seemed　to　have　wound　itself　about　her　own　till　she　could　not
  disentangle　it。　　She　was　dimly　conscious　that　she　was　falling　under
  a　spell　and　summoned　all　her　remaining　strength　to　break　it。　　Quick
  as　the　uncoiling　of　a　released　spring；　and　without　the　slightest
  movement　of　warning；　she　threw　her　entire　weight　upon　the　sash　in
  a　last　endeavour　to　close　the　window；　but　the　man's　upraised　arm
  held　both　her　weight　and　it；　as　if　its　muscles　had　been　rods　of
  steel。　　Gwen　saw　a　long　knife　in　his　free　hand；　…　saw　the　light
  shimmer　along　its　blade；　saw　him　raise　it　aloft　to　plunge　it　into
  her　bosom；　yet　made　no　movement　to　withdraw　beyond　his　reach　and
  uttered　no　cry　for　help。　　It　seemed　to　her　that　all　this　was
  happening　to　another　and　that　she　herself　was　only　a　fascinated
  spectator。　　She　was　wondering　whether　or　not　the　victim　would　try
  to　defend　herself　when　the　knife　began　its　descent。　　It　seemed
  ages　in　its　downward　passage；　…　so　long；　indeed；　that　it　gave　her
  time　to　think　of　most　of　the　main　experiences　of　her　life。　　At　last
  it　paused　irresolutely　within　an　inch　of　her　bosom。　　She　wondered
  that　the　victim　made　no　attempt　to　escape；　uttered　no　cry　for　help。
  Suddenly　she　felt　something　whirling　and　buzzing　in　her　brain；　while
  a　wild　fluttering　filled　both　her　ears；　then　the　swirling；　fluttering
  torment　rose　in　a　swift　and　awful　crescendo　which　seemed　to　involve
  all　creation　in　its　vortex；　then　a　pang　like　a　lightning…thrust　and
  a　crash　like　the　thunder　that　goes　with　it；　and　she　saw　a　tall　man
  striding　rapidly　from　the　window。　　She　was　still　sure　it　was　no
  personal　concern　of　hers；　yet　an　idle　curiosity　noted　his　great
  height；　his　dark；　mulatto…like　skin；　and　a　slight　halt　in　his　walk
  as　he　passed　through　a　narrow　beam　of　light　and　off　into　the
  engulfing　darkness。
  It　was　many　minutes　before　Gwen　regained　any　considerable　command
  of　her　faculties；　and　she　afterwards　told　me　that　she　was　even　then
  more　than　half　inclined　to　consider　the　whole　thing　as　a　weird　dream
  of　an　overwrought　mind。　　At　length；　however；　she　realised　that　she
  had　had　an　actual　experience；　and　that　it　was　of　sufficient
  importance　to　make　it　known　at　once。　　She　accordingly　hastened　to
  lay　the　whole　matter　before　me；　and　I；　in　my　turn；　notified　the
  police；　who；　at　once　instituted　as　thorough　a　search　as　Gwen's
  description　made　possible。　　She　had　told　me　that　her　assailant　was
  dark…skinned；　yet　with　straight　hair；　and　a　cast　of　features　that
  gave　no　hint　of　any　Ethiopian　taint。　　This；　and　his　halting　gait
  and　great　stature；　were　all　the　police　had　in　the　way　of　description；
  and　I　may　as　well　add　that　the　information　was　insufficient；　for　they
  never　found　any　trace　of　Gwen's　assailant。
  I　had　had　some　hopes　of　this　clue；　but　they　were　doomed　to
  disappointment。　　It　seemed　evident　to　us　that　if　anything　were　ever
  done　in　bringing　Mr。　Darrow's　assassin　to　justice；　Maitland　would
  have　to　do　it；　unless；　indeed；　M。　Godin　solved　the　problem。=20
  Osborne；　Allen；　and　their　associates　were　simply　out　of　the　question。
  We　debated　for　some　time　as　to　whether　or　not　we　should　write
  Maitland　about　Gwen's　strange　experience；　and　finally　decided　that
  the　knowledge　would　be　a　constant　source　of　worriment　without　being
  of　the　least　assistance　to　him　while　he　was　so　far　away。　　We；
  therefore；　decided　to　keep　our　own　counsel；　for　the　present　at　least。
  Maitland　had　written　us　a　few　lines　from　New　York　telling　us　the
  result　of　his　analysis；　and　ended　by　saying：
  There　is　no　doubt　that　Mr。　Darrow　died　of　poison　injected　into　the
  blood　through　the　slight　wound　in　the　throat。　　This　wound　was　not
  deep；　and　seemed　to　have　been　torn　rather　than　cut　in　the　flesh。
  What　sort　of　weapon　or　projectile　produced　that　wound　is　a　question
  of　the　utmost　importance；　shrouded　in　the　deepest　of　mysteries。
  Once　this　point　is　settled；　however；　its　very　uniqueness　will　be
  greatly　in　our　favour。　　I　have　an　idea　our　friend　Ragobah　might　be
  able　to　throw　some　light　upon　this　subject；　therefore　I　am　starting
  on　my　way　to　visit　him　this　afternoon；　and　shall　write　you　en　route
  whenever　occasion　offers。　My　kindest　regards　to　Miss　Darrow。
  Yours　sincerely；
  GEORGE　MAITLAND。
  P。　S。　I　shall　have　leisure　now　on　shipboard　to　set　tie　that　question
  of　atomic　pitches；　which　is　still　a　thorn　in　my　intellectual　flesh。
  I　handed　this　letter　to　Gwen；　and；　after　she　had　read　it　through
  very　carefully；　she　questioned　me　about　this　new　theory　of　Maitland's。
  I　went　through　the　form　of　telling　her；　after　the　usual　practice　of
  amiable　men　discoursing　to　women；　feeling　sure　she　would　be　no　wiser
  when　I　had　finished；　and　was　dumfounded　when　she　replied：　〃It　looks
  very　reasonable。　　Professor　Bjerknes；　if　I　remember　the　name；　has
  produced　all　the　phenomena　of　magnetic　attraction；　repulsion；　and
  polarisation；　by　air　vibrations　correspondin