hought of dear Leo lying there so ill had but added fuel
to the fire of my unrest. My wearied body and overstrained mind awakened
all my imagination into preternatural activity. Ideas, visions, almost
inspirations, floated before it with startling vividness. Most of them
were grotesque enough, some were ghastly, some recalled thoughts and
sensations that had for years been buried in the _debris_ of my past
life. But, behind and above them all, hovered the shape of that awful
woman, and through them gleamed the memory of her entrancing loveliness.
Up and down the cave I strode--up and down.

Suddenly I observed, what I had not noticed before, that there was a
narrow aperture in the rocky wall. I took up the lamp and examined it;
the aperture led to a passage. Now, I was still sufficiently sensible
to remember that it is not pleasant, in such a situation as ours was, to
have passages running into one's bed-chamber from no one knows where. If
there are passages, people can come up them; they can come up when one
is asleep. Partly to see where it went to, and partly from a restless
desire to be doing something, I followed the passage. It led to a stone
stair, which I descended; the stair ended in another passage, or rather
tunnel, also hewn out of the bed-rock, and running, so far as I could
judge, exactly beneath the gallery that led to the entrance of our
rooms, and across the great central cave. I went on down it: it was as
silent as the grave, but still, drawn by some sensation or attraction
that I cannot define, I followed on, my stockinged feet falling without
noise on the smooth and rocky floor. When I had traversed some fifty
yards of space, I came to another passage running at right angles, and
here an awful thing happened to me: the sharp draught caught my lamp
and extinguished it, leaving me in utter darkness in the bowels of that
mysterious place. I took a couple of strides forward so as to clear the
bisecting tunnel, being terribly afraid lest I should turn up it in
the dark if once I got confused as to the direction, and then paused to
think. What was I to do? I had no match; it seemed awful to attempt that
long journey back through the utter gloom, and yet I could not stand
there all night, and, if I did, probably it would not help me much, for
in the bowels of the rock it would be as dark at midday as at midnight.
I looked back over my shoulder--not a sight or a sound. I peered forward
into the darkness: sure