od-night, sir," said the old man; "good-night; I wish you well."

A moment later I had entered my bedroom, and having shut the door,
proceeded to give it a careful examination. As far as I could make out,
there was no entrance to the room except by the door, which was shaped
to fit the circular walls. I noticed, however, that there was an
unaccountable draught, and this I at last discovered came from below the
oak wainscoting of the wall. I could not in any way account for the
draught, but it existed to an unpleasant extent. The bed, I further saw,
was somewhat peculiar; it had no castors on the four legs, which were
let down about half an inch into sockets provided for them in the wooden
floor. This discovery excited my suspicions still further. It was
evident that the bed was intended to remain in a particular position. I
saw that it directly faced the little window sunk deep into the thick
wall, so that any one in bed would look directly at the window. I
examined my watch, found that it was past eleven, and placing both the
candles on a tiny table near the bed, I lay down without undressing. I
was on the alert to catch the slightest noise, but the hours dragged on
and nothing occurred. In the house all was silence, and outside the
splashing and churning of the water falling over the wheel came
distinctly to my ears.

I lay awake all night, but as morning dawned fell into an uneasy sleep.
I awoke to see the broad daylight streaming in at the small window.

Making a hasty toilet, I went out for a walk, and presently came in to
breakfast. It had been laid for me in the big kitchen, and the old man
was seated by the hearth.

"Well," said the woman, "I hope you slept comfortable, sir."

I answered in the affirmative, and now perceived that old Bindloss and
his wife were in the humour to be agreeable. They said that if I was
satisfied with the room I might spend another night at the inn. I told
them that I had a great many photographs to take, and would be much
obliged for the permission. As I spoke I looked round for the girl, Liz.
She was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is your grand-daughter?" I asked of the old woman.

"She has gone away for the day," was the reply. "It's too much for Liz
to see strangers. She gets excited, and then the fits come on."

"What sort of fits?"

"I can't tell what they are called, but they're bad, and weaken her,
poor thing! Liz ought never to be excited." Here Bindloss gave his wife