She put her hand on my arm as if for protection as she uttered these words, and I took it in mine to reassure her; it was cold as ice. It was clear that she had received a shock, and I was disposed to ascribe it to the strain she had undergone during the past fortnight. But this view was shaken when I thought of her courage and daring.

"What did I tell you?" said Bob, sticking to his guns. "Nightmare."

"That's somethink yer must be in bed to 'ave, ain't it?" said Sophy.

"Yes," said Bob, "and asleep."

"I wasn't neither," said Sophy; "I was as wide-awake as you are."

"Oh, you didn't go to bed when I put you in your room?"

"No, I didn't. I waited a minute or two, and then I went out."

"What made you do that, Sophy?" I asked.

"I don't know, 'xcep' that I wanted to go to the mad'ouse--outside, yer know--to see if they'd found out about the desk."

"It was a dangerous thing to do," I said.

"Well, I didn't do it. I 'adn't got 'arf way there when a sperrit crep' past me. I told Aunty I didn't believe in sperrits, but I do now. I didn't think it was a sperrit at fust, I thought it was a man; and I sed to myself, If you can creep, so can I,' and I crep' after it."

"But why, Sophy?"

"I don't know why. I did it 'cause somethink made me. All at once it stopped and turned, and the moon lit up its face. It was the ghost of Mr. Felix."

She was speaking more quietly now, and there was a note of conviction in her voice that startled me.

"Is that what you call a nightmare?" she asked of Bob, whose eyes were fixed intently upon her.

"No," he replied, "but you were mistaken. It was only a fancied resemblance."

"It wasn't nothink of the sort, and I wasn't mistook. I'm ready to take my dying oath on it. There ain't two Mr. Felixes, there's only one, and it was 'is ghost I sor."

"What did you do, Sophy?" I inquired.

"I stood like a stone, and couldn't move. But when it looked at me, and when I 'eered its voice, and when I sor it moving up to me, I give a scream, and run away. But I fell down over the stump of a tree, and it caught 'old of me and lifted me up. Then it wrenched my face to the light, and poked it's 'ead for'ard, and I sor clearer than ever that it was Mr. Felix's ghost. I don't know 'ow I managed it, but I twisted myself away, and run as I'd never run in my life before till I got 'ere."

"Is that all, Sophy?"

"That's all I can tell yer. Ain't it enough?"

"If there is any truth in it, my girl, it is more than enough? You cannot say whether it followed you?"

"No, I never look behind. It was more than I dared do."

"You heard it speak, you say. What words did it utter?"

"It said, 'What the devil!'"

"Nothing more?"

"Nothink as I 'eerd."

She had told all she knew, and it was useless to question her farther upon the subject, so I put it aside for a moment, with the intention of talking it over with Bob when we were alone. But I had not yet done with Sophy; before I parted with her for the night I was desirous of obtaining fuller information of Dr. Peterssen's establishment than she had given Bob. She was perfectly willing to tell everything she knew, and seemed to be relieved to have her attention turned to other matters.

"You had the run of Dr. Peterssen's house, Sophy?"

"Yes, I 'ad."

"How many servants are there in it?"

"Only one--the keeper."

"What is his name?"

"Crawley."

"Did no woman come to do the cleaning or cooking?"

"Nobody come. Crawley did everythink."

"You were not ill-treated?"

"Oh, no."

"Did you have your meals alone?"

"No; the three of us 'ad 'em together."

"The three of you. Dr. Peterssen, Crawley, and you?"

"No; Dr. Peterssen never 'ad nothink with us. I mean the other patient."

"But there was more than one?"

"There wasn't while I was there. There was only one."

I turned to Bob. "You said there were children, Bob?"

"So I was informed, but I may have been misled."

"I 'eerd Crawley say the young 'uns were took away the day before I come," said Sophy.

"That explains it. So there was only one patient left?"

"Only one."

"A man?"

"A gentleman."

"How did you find out he was a gentleman?"

"Yer can't be mistook between a man and a gent. You're a gent; Mr. Tucker's another."

"Much obliged, Sophy," said Bob.

"What is the name of the gentleman patient, Sophy?"

"He didn't 'ave none that I know of. I 'eered the greengrocer's boy say to Crawley once, 'Ow's Number One, Mr. Crawley?' That's how I got to know 'ow he was called, and what the keeper's name was. I couldn't arks nothink, of course, 'cause I was deaf and dumb. 'Same as ever,' said Crawley to the boy, 'mem'ry quite gone.'"

"Poor fellow! There is no doubt, I suppose, about his being mad?"

"I don't know about that. He never did nothink, and 'ardly ever spoke a word. But he was very kind to me, and I was very sorry for 'im. He'd put 'is 'and on my 'ead, and smooth my 'air, and look at me pitiful like, with tears in 'is eyes which made 'em come into mine."

"A case of melancholia, Bob," I said. Bob nodded. "Was no effort made, Sophy, to bring his memory back to him?"

"Nobody did nothink; he was let alone, the same as I was. I did want 'ard to talk to 'im, but I didn't dare open my lips, or I should have been found out. I do wish somethink could be done for 'im, that I do. Look 'ere, you're rich, ain't you?"

"Not exactly rich, Sophy, but I am not poor."

"Well, then. Crawley's to be bought."

"How do you know that?"

"I 'eerd Crawley say to 'isself, 'If I 'ad a 'underd pound I'd cut the cussed concern, and go to Amerikey.'"

"Ah! We'll think over it. A hundred pounds is a large sum. It's late, Sophy. I've nothing more to ask you to-night. Get to bed, like a good girl."

But Sophy began to tremble again; her thoughts reverted to M. Felix.

"I daren't go to the room Mr. Tucker took me to; Mr. Felix's ghost'd come agin. Let me sleep 'ere, please."

"There's no bed, my girl. I tell you what you shall do. There are two beds in the next room--see, this door opens into it--which Mr. Tucker and I were to occupy. We'll bring a mattress and some bedclothes in here, and we'll manage for the night; I'll lie on the sofa. You shall sleep in there, where no ghost can get to you. It would have to come through this room first."

Sophy busied herself at once in bringing the mattress and bedclothes from the adjoining room, and after extemporizing a couple of beds for Bob and me wished us a grateful good-night.

Bob and I were alone. "Now, Bob," said I, "what do you think of her story?"

"There's more in it than meets the eye," said Bob. "Agnold, if any other person had related it I should set it down to an overwrought mind. But Sophy is an exceptional being; she is sharp, she is clever, she is brave, she is clear-witted. Naturally it is a puzzling affair, and I think it is worth arguing out."

"Let us do so, Bob," I said.

"It is always a mistake," said Bob, "in matters of conjecture, to pin one's self to a fixed point. This mistake, in my opinion, has been committed in all inquiries relating to the mystery of M. Felix. Having accepted a certain conclusion every person privately or professionally interested in the mystery started from that fixed point and branched out in all directions, north, east, south, and west, utterly ignoring the possibility--in this case I should say the probability--of the conclusion they accepted being a false one, as misleading as a will-o'-the-wisp."

"Am I included in this sweeping condemnation?" I asked.

"You are. The police I can excuse, but not a man of your discrimination and logical power."

"What fixed point, Bob, did I, in common with everyone else, start from in wild directions?"

"The fixed point," replied Bob, "that M. Felix is dead."

"But he was proved to be dead."

"Nothing of the sort. There was no post-mortem, there was not even an inquest. He is said to have died of heart disease. He lies inanimate on a bed for an inconsiderable number of hours, and then he disappears. My dear Agnold, have you ever heard of such a thing as suspended animation?"

"Of course I have."

"Have you ever heard of a person falling into a trance, and remaining to all appearance dead for three or four times as many hours as M. Felix lay before he disappeared? People have been buried alive in such conditions; others have been happily rescued at the moment the lids of their coffins have been about to be nailed do............