an Eastern book,
and is it not full of the record of such powers from cover to cover?
It is unquestionable that they have in the past known many of Nature's
secrets which are lost to us. I cannot say, however, from my own
knowledge that the modern theosophists really possess the powers that
they claim."

"Are they a vindictive class of people?" I asked. "Is there any offence
among them which can only be expiated by death?"

"Not that I know of," my father answered, raising his white eyebrows
in surprise. "You appear to be in an inquisitive humour this
afternoon--what is the object of all these questions? Have our Eastern
neighbours aroused your curiosity or suspicion in any way?"

I parried the question as best I might, for I was unwilling to let the
old man know what was in my mind. No good purpose could come from his
enlightenment; his age and his health demanded rest rather than anxiety;
and indeed, with the best will in the world I should have found it
difficult to explain to another what was so very obscure to myself. For
every reason I felt that it was best that he should be kept in the dark.

Never in all my experience had I known a day pass so slowly as did that
eventful 5th of October. In every possible manner I endeavoured to while
away the tedious hours, and yet it seemed as if darkness would never
arrive.

I tried to read, I tried to write, I paced about the lawn, I walked to
the end of the lane, I put new flies upon my fishing-hooks, I began to
index my father's library--in a dozen ways I endeavoured to relieve the
suspense which was becoming intolerable. My sister, I could see, was
suffering from the same feverish restlessness.

Again and again our good father remonstrated with us in his mild way for
our erratic behaviour and the continual interruption of his work which
arose from it.

At last, however, the tea was brought, and the tea was taken, the
curtains were drawn, the lamps lit, and after another interminable
interval the prayers were read and the servants dismissed to their
rooms. My father compounded and swallowed his nightly jorum of toddy,
and then shuffled off to his room, leaving the two of us in the parlour
with our nerves in a tingle and our minds full of the most vague and yet
terrible apprehensions.

CHAPTER XIV. OF THE VISITOR WHO RAN DOWN THE ROAD IN THE NIGHT-TIME

It was a quarter past ten o'clock by the parlour timepiece when my
father went off to his room, and left E