Tales of Terror and Mystery

           "

           "Whichroomdidyouhearitfrom?"

           "Fromtheturret-room,beforetheceilingfell."

           "ButIhearditfromthelibraryonlylastnight.IpassedthedoorsasIwasgoingtobed,andIheardsomethingwailingandprayingjustasplainlyasIhearyou.Itmaybeawoman——"

           "Why,whatelseCOULDitbe?"

           Helookedatmehard.

           "Therearemorethingsinheavenandearth,"saidhe."Ifitisawoman,howdoesshegetthere?"

           "Idon’tknow."

           "No,norI.Butifitistheotherthing—butthere,forapracticalbusinessmanattheendofthenineteenthcenturythisisratheraridiculouslineofconversation."Heturnedaway,butIsawthathefeltevenmorethanhehadsaid.ToalltheoldghoststoriesofThorpePlaceanewonewasbeingaddedbeforeourveryeyes.Itmaybythistimehavetakenitspermanentplace,forthoughanexplanationcametome,itneverreachedtheothers.

           Andmyexplanationcameinthisway.Ihadsufferedasleeplessnightfromneuralgia,andaboutmiddayIhadtakenaheavydoseofchlorodynetoalleviatethepain.AtthattimeIwasfinishingtheindexingofSirJohnBollamore’slibrary,anditwasmycustomtoworktherefromfivetillseven.OnthisparticulardayIstruggledagainstthedoubleeffectofmybadnightandthenarcotic.Ihavealreadymentionedthattherewasarecessinthelibrary,andinthisitwasmyhabittowork.Isettleddownsteadilytomytask,butmywearinessovercamemeand,fallingbackuponthesettee,Idroppedintoaheavysleep.

           HowlongIsleptIdonotknow,butitwasquitedarkwhenIawoke.