leave me," he cried. "It wants to go! Don't lose a moment!
Let it out! The window--the window!"

The Father, wondering, went to the near window, drew aside the curtains
and pushed it open. The branches of the trees in the garden creaked
drily in the light wind. Guildea leaned forward on the arms of his
chair. There was silence for a moment. Then Guildea, speaking in a rapid
whisper, said,

"No, no. Open this door--open the hall door. I feel--I feel that it will
return the way it came. Make haste--ah, go!"

The Father obeyed--to soothe him, hurried to the door and opened it
wide. Then he glanced back at Guildea. He was standing up, bent forward.
His eyes were glaring with eager expectation, and, as the Father turned,
he made a furious gesture towards the passage with his thin hands.

The Father hastened out and down the stairs. As he descended in the
twilight he fancied he heard a slight cry from the room behind him, but
he did not pause. He flung the hall door open, standing back against the
wall. After waiting a moment--to satisfy Guildea, he was about to close
the door again, and had his hand on it, when he was attracted
irresistibly to look forth towards the park. The night was lit by a
young moon, and, gazing through the railings, his eyes fell upon a bench
beyond them.

Upon this bench something was sitting, huddled together very strangely.

The Father remembered instantly Guildea's description of that former
night, that night of Advent, and a sensation of horror-stricken
curiosity stole through him.

Was there then really something that had indeed come to the Professor?
And had it finished its work, fulfilled its desire and gone back to its
former existence?

The Father hesitated a moment in the doorway. Then he stepped out
resolutely and crossed the road, keeping his eyes fixed upon this black
or dark object that leaned so strangely upon the bench. He could not
tell yet what it was like, but he fancied it was unlike anything with
which his eyes were acquainted. He reached the opposite path, and was
about to pass through the gate in the railings, when his arm was
brusquely grasped. He started, turned round, and saw a policeman eyeing
him suspiciously.

"What are you up to?" said the policeman.

The Father was suddenly aware that he had no hat upon his head, and that
his appearance, as he stole forward in his cassock, with his eyes
intently fixed upon the bench in the Park, was probably unusual enough