Tales of Terror and Mystery

           InsomesubtlewayhedivinedthesympathywhichIhadforhim,andheshowedinhisownsilentfashionthatheappreciatedit.Heeveninvitedmeoncetosharehisafternoonwalk,andalthoughnowordpassedbetweenusonthisoccasion,itwasamarkofconfidencewhichhehadnevershowntoanyonebefore.Heaskedmealsotoindexhislibrary(itwasoneofthebestprivatelibrariesinEngland),andIspentmanyhoursintheeveninginhispresence,ifnotinhissociety,hereadingathisdeskandIsittinginarecessbythewindowreducingtoorderthechaoswhichexistedamonghisbooks.InspiteofthesecloserelationsIwasneveragainaskedtoenterthechamberintheturret.

           Andthencamemyrevulsionoffeeling.Asingleincidentchangedallmysympathytoloathing,andmademerealizethatmyemployerstillremainedallthathehadeverbeen,withtheadditionalviceofhypocrisy.Whathappenedwasasfollows.

           OneeveningMissWithertonhadgonedowntoBroadway,theneighbouringvillage,tosingataconcertforsomecharity,andI,accordingtomypromise,hadwalkedovertoescortherback.Thedrivesweepsroundundertheeasternturret,andIobservedasIpassedthatthelightwaslitinthecircularroom.Itwasasummerevening,andthewindow,whichwasalittlehigherthanourheads,wasopen.Wewere,asithappened,engrossedinourownconversationatthemomentandwehadpauseduponthelawnwhichskirtstheoldturret,whensuddenlysomethingbrokeinuponourtalkandturnedourthoughtsawayfromourownaffairs.

           Itwasavoice—thevoiceundoubtedlyofawoman.