helped Mrs. Murphy unpack their
portmanteau, and, during the process, whiled away so much time in
conversation, that they were both startled when a clock from some
adjacent church solemnly boomed twelve. They were then seized with
something approaching a panic, and hastened to disrobe.

"I wish we had a night-light, John," Mrs. Murphy said, as she got up
from her prayers. "I suppose it wouldn't do to keep one of the candles
burning. I am not exactly afraid, only I don't fancy being left in the
dark. I had a curious sensation when I was in the cupboard just now--I
can't exactly explain it--but I feel now that I would like the light
left burning."

"It certainly is rather a gloomy room," Mr. Murphy remarked, raising
his eyes to the black oak ceiling, and then allowing them to dwell in
turn on each of the angles and recesses. "And I agree with you it
would be nice if we had a night-light, or, better still, gas. But as
we haven't, my dear, and we shall be on our feet a good deal
to-morrow, I think we ought to try and get to sleep as soon as
possible."

He blew out the candle as he spoke, and quickly scrambled into bed. A
long hush followed, broken only by the sound of breathing, and an
occasional ticking as of some long-legged creature on the wall and
window-blind. Mrs. Murphy could never remember if she actually went to
sleep, but she is sure her husband did, as she distinctly heard him
snore--and the sound, so detestable to her as a rule, was so welcome
to her then. She was lying listening to it, and wishing with all her
soul she could get to sleep, when she suddenly became aware of a
smell--a most offensive, pungent odour, that blew across the room and
crept up her nostrils. The cold perspiration of fear at once broke out
on her forehead. Nasty as the smell was, it suggested something more
horrible, something she dared not attempt to analyse. She thought
several times of rousing her husband, but, remembering how tired he
had been, she desisted, and, with all her faculties abnormally on the
alert, she lay awake and listened. A deathlike hush hung over the
house, interrupted at intervals by the surreptitious noises peculiar
to the night--enigmatical creaks and footsteps, rustlings as of
drapery, sighs and whisperings--all very faint, all very subtle, and
all possibly, just possibly, attributable to natural causes. Mrs.
Murphy caught herself--why, she could not say--waiting for some
definite auditory manifestation of wh