"How，sir?"

He made no reply，but stood with his arms folded，looking on the ground. At the end of a few minutes he inquired in rather a peculiar tone-

"I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door."

"No，sir，only the candlestick on the ground."

"But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before，I should think，or something like it?"

"Yes，sir: there is a woman who sews here，called Grace poole,- she laughs in that way. She is a singular person."

"Just so. Grace poole- you have guessed it. She is，as you say，singular- very. Well，I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime，I am glad that you are the only person，besides myself，acquainted with the precise details of to-night"s incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs" (pointing to the bed): "and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four:- in two hours the servants will be up."

"Good-night，then，sir," said I，departing.

He seemed surprised- very inconsistently so，as he had just told me to go.

"What!" he exclaimed，"are you quitting me already，and in that way?"

"You said I might go，sir."

"But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not，in short，in that brief，dry fashion. Why，you have saved my life!- snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands."

He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one，then in both his own.