ad been seen--the
old man was coming in. What could he say? Tell the truth, that was
all; but who would believe such a story? why, it was one that he should
scarcely care to advance in a court of law. Could he expect a father to
believe it--a father finding a man crouched like a thief behind a door
at the dead of night with his lovely daughter senseless in his arms? He
had already thought of going straight to Mr. Granger, but had abandoned
the idea as hopeless. Who would believe this tale of sleep-walking?
For the first time in his life Geoffrey felt terribly afraid, both for
Beatrice and himself; the hair rose on his head, his heart stood still,
and a cold perspiration started on to his face.

"It's very odd," he heard the old man mutter to himself; "I could almost
swear that I saw something white go into that room. Where's the handle?
If I believed in ghosts--hullo! my candle has blown out! I must go and
hunt for a match. Don't quite like going in there without a light."

For the moment they were saved. The fierce draught rushing through the
open crack of the door from the ill-fitting window had extinguished the
candle.

Geoffrey waited a few seconds to allow Mr. Granger to reach his room,
and then once more started on his awful journey. He passed out of the
room in safety; happily Beatrice showed no signs of recovery. A few
quick steps and he was at her own door. And now a new terror seized him.
What if Elizabeth was also walking the house or even awake? He thought
of putting Beatrice down at the door and leaving her there, but
abandoned the idea. To begin with, her father might see her, and then
how could her presence be accounted for? or if he did not, she would
certainly suffer ill effects from the cold. No, he must risk it, and
at once, though he would rather have faced a battery of guns. The door
fortunately was ajar. Geoffrey opened it with his foot, entered, and
with his foot pushed it to again. Suddenly he remembered that he had
never been in the room, and did not know which bed belonged to Beatrice.
He walked to the nearest; a deep-drawn breath told him that it was the
wrong one. Drawing some faint consolation from the fact that Elizabeth
was evidently asleep, he groped his way to the second bed through
the deep twilight of the room. The clothes were thrown back. He laid
Beatrice down and threw them over her. Then he fled.

As he reached the door he saw Mr. Granger's light disappear into his own
room and