nd that any wickedness which he may do shall
by the local people be attributed to me.

It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up
here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law
which is even a criminal's right and consolation.

I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time
sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were
some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They
were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and
gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a
sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in
the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy
more fully the aerial gambolling.

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere
far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it
seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating moats of dust to take new
shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself
struggling to awake to some call of my instincts. Nay, my very soul
was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to
answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised!

Quicker and quicker danced the dust. The moonbeams seemed to quiver
as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they
gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I
started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran
screaming from the place.

The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from
the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women to whom I was doomed.

I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no
moonlight, and where the lamp was burning brightly.

When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the
Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed. And
then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a
beating heart, I tried the door, but I was locked in my prison, and
could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.

As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without, the agonised cry of
a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered between
the bars.

There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her hands
over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning
against the corner of the gateway. Wh