oom. The wind had increased in violence, and the panes of his
window rattled continually. He yawned and tried to fancy that he was
sleepy. It was useless. He was compelled to admit the truth--that his
nerves were all on edge. In a sense he was afraid. The thought of bed
repelled him. He had not a single impulse towards repose. Outside, the
wind all the time was gathering force. More than once his window was
splashed with the spray carried on by the wind which followed the tide.
He sat quite still and tried to think calmly, tried to piece together
in his mind the sequence of events which had brought him to this part of
the world and which had led to his remaining where he was, an undesired
hanger-on at the threshold of Miles Fentolin. He had the feeling that
to-night he had burned his boats. There was no longer any pretence
of friendliness possible between him and this strange creature. Mr.
Fentolin suspected him, realised that he himself was suspected. But
of what? Hamel moved in his chair restlessly. Sometimes that gathering
cloud of suspicion seemed to him grotesque. Of what real harm could he
be capable, this little autocrat who from his chair seemed to exercise
such a malign influence upon every one with whom he was brought into
contact? Hamel sighed. The riddle was insoluble. With a sudden rush of
warmer and more joyous feelings, he let the subject slip away from him.
He closed his eyes and dreamed for a while. There was a new world before
him, joys which only so short a time ago he had fancied had passed him
by.

He sat up in his chair with a start. The fire had become merely a
handful of grey ashes, his limbs were numb and stiff. The lamp was
flickering out. He had been dozing, how long he had no idea. Something
had awakened him abruptly. There was a cold draught blowing through
the room. He turned his head, his hands still gripping the sides of his
chair. His heart gave a leap. The outer door was a few inches open, was
being held open by some invisible force. There was some one there, some
one on the point of entering stealthily. Even as he watched, the crack
became a little wider. He sat with his eyes riveted upon that opening
space. The unseen hand was still at work. Every instant he expected to
see a face thrust forward. The sensation of absolute physical fear by
which he was oppressed was a revelation to him. He found himself wishing
almost feverishly that he was armed. The physical strength in which
he had