rought back to him all the terror he had
felt in his flight over the sea, when the sound of the hissing waters
had reached his ears through the carpet of fog:

"O misty moon,
Persuasive moon,
Earth's tides are ever rising;
By the awful grace
Of thy weird white face
Leap the seas to thy enticing!"

Then followed the voice that had started the horrid song. This time he
was sure it was not Miss Lake's voice, but only a very clever imitation
of it. Moreover, it again ended in a shriek of laughter that froze his
blood:

"O misty moon,
Deceiving moon,
Thy silvery glance brings sadness;
Who flies to thee,
From land or sea,
Shall end--his--days--in--MADNESS!"

Other voices began to laugh and sing, but Jimbo stopped his ears, for he
simply could not bear any more. He felt certain, too, that these strange
words to the moon had all been part of a trap--a device to draw him to
the window. He shuddered to think how nearly he had fallen into it, and
determined to lie on the bed and wait till he heard his companion
calling, and knew beyond all doubt that it was she.

But the night passed away and the dawn came, and no voice had called him
forth to the last flight.

Hitherto, in all his experiences, there had been only one absolute
certainty: the appearance of the governess with the morning light. But
this time sunrise came and the clouds cleared away, and the sweet smells
of field and air stole into the little room, yet without any sign of the
governess. The hours passed, and she did not come, till finally he
realised that she was not coming at all, and he would have to spend the
whole day alone. Something had happened to prevent her, or else it was
all part of her mysterious "plan." He did not know, and all he could do
was to wait, and wonder, and hope.

All day long he lay and waited, and all day long he was alone. The
trap-door never once moved; the courtyard remained empty and deserted;
there was no sound on the landing or on the stairs; no wind stirred the
leaves outside, and the hot sun poured down out of a cloudless sky. He
stood by the open window for hours watching the motionless branches.
Everything seemed dead; not even a bird crossed his field of vision. The
loneliness, the awful silence, and above all, the dread of the
approaching night, were sometimes more than he seemed able to bear; and
he wanted to put his head out of the window and scream, or lie down on
the bed and cr