whirr of the grandfather clock which always prefaced the striking of
the hour; and in another second the hour itself struck, with one deep,
sonorous note which reverberated through the quiet room.

"One o'clock, and no result," Major Carstairs stretched himself
cautiously. "How long is the sitting to continue, eh? It's all right for
me, but I'm afraid if you have a heavy day's work in prospect----"

"Oh, I don't mind," said Anstice indifferently. "I'm used to having my
sleep cut short--one's patients seem to think one can exist quite
comfortably without it, though they make a tremendous fuss if they lose
a night's sleep for any reason!"

"Well, if nothing happens shortly--and I'm inclined to think nothing
will----" began Major Carstairs, but he got no further, for with the
extraordinary aptness of conjunction which we are wont to call
coincidence, though another word might more fitly be employed, the door
opened almost noiselessly and a hooded figure crept on soundless feet
into the room.

Anstice and his companion fairly held their breath as the shrouded form
glided softly forward, the light of the dying fire doing little, now, to
illumine the scene; and neither of the men could have sworn with any
certainty to the identity of the person who shared their occupation of
the silent room.

In the middle of the floor the figure halted suddenly; and for one wild
moment Anstice fancied that some sixth sense had warned the new-comer of
their presence; but realizing the danger of attracting that new-comer's
thought towards him by any intensity of his own mind--for one thought
will draw another as a magnet the steel--Anstice switched off the
current of his thoughts, so to speak, and waited with as blank a mind as
he could compass for the thing which must surely happen soon.

After that involuntary halt the figure moved slowly forward in the
direction of the writing-table; and Anstice would have given a great
deal to have been able to see the face of this midnight scribe; but as
yet the firelit gloom remained undisturbed; and it was impossible to do
more than hazard a guess as to this strange visitor's personality.

There were candles on the writing-table, and for a moment Anstice
fancied that the mysterious figure would seek their aid to carry through
the task confronting her--he was convinced it was a woman who sat at the
table--but he was wrong, for no match was struck, no candle-flame
lighted the soft dusk. Instead a s