f the fraud really contemplated
by his wife--his mind, clouded and confused by disturbing influences,
instinctively took refuge in its impressions of facts as they had
shown themselves since he had entered the house. Everything that he had
noticed below stairs suggested that there was some secret purpose to be
answered by getting Allan to sleep in the Sanitarium. Everything that
he had noticed above stairs associated the lurking-place in which the
danger lay hid with Allan's room. To reach this conclusion, and to
decide on baffling the conspiracy, whatever it might be, by taking
Allan's place, was with Midwinter the work of an instant. Confronted by
actual peril, the great nature of the man intuitively freed itself from
the weaknesses that had beset it in happier and safer times. Not even
the shadow of the old superstition rested on his mind now--no fatalist
suspicion of himself disturbed the steady resolution that was in
him. The one last doubt that troubled him, as he stood at the window
thinking, was the doubt whether he could persuade Allan to change rooms
with him, without involving himself in an explanation which might lead
Allan to suspect the truth.

In the minute that elapsed, while he waited with his eyes on the room,
the doubt was resolved--he found the trivial, yet sufficient, excuse of
which he was in search. Mr. Bashwood saw him rouse himself and go to the
door. Mr. Bashwood heard him knock softly, and whisper, "Allan, are you
in bed?"

"No," answered the voice inside; "come in."

He appeared to be on the point of entering the room, when he checked
himself as if he had suddenly remembered something. "Wait a minute,"
he said, through the door, and, turning away, went straight to the end
room. "If there is anybody watching us in there," he said aloud, "let
him watch us through this!" He took out his handkerchief, and stuffed it
into the wires of the grating, so as completely to close the aperture.
Having thus forced the spy inside (if there was one) either to betray
himself by moving the handkerchief, or to remain blinded to all view of
what might happen next, Midwinter presented himself in Allan's room.

"You know what poor nerves I have," he said, "and what a wretched
sleeper I am at the best of times. I can't sleep to-night. The window in
my room rattles every time the wind blows. I wish it was as fast as your
window here."

"My dear fellow!" cried Allan, "I don't mind a rattling window. Let's
chang