(continued)

Punctual to my appointment, I placed my foot on the first notch of the zigzag next night, as the distant clocks were striking eleven.  He was waiting for me at the bottom, with his white light on.  "I have not called out," I said, when we came close together;  "may I speak now?"  "By all means, sir."  "Good-night, then, and here's my hand."  "Good-night, sir, and here's mine."  With that we walked side by side to his box, entered it, closed the door, and sat down by the fire.

"I have made up my mind, sir," he began, bending forward as soon as we were seated, and speaking in a tone but a little above a whisper, "that you shall not have to ask me twice what troubles me.  I took you for some one else yesterday evening.  That troubles me."

"That mistake?"

"No.  That some one else."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

"Like me?"

"I don't know.  I never saw the face.  The left arm is across the face, and the right arm is waved,—violently waved.  This way."

I followed his action with my eyes, and it was the action of an arm gesticulating, with the utmost passion and vehemence, "For God's sake, clear the way!"

"One moonlight night," said the man, "I was sitting here, when I heard a voice cry, 'Halloa!  Below there!'  I started up, looked from that door, and saw this Some one else standing by the red light near the tunnel, waving as I just now showed you.  The voice seemed hoarse with shouting, and it cried, 'Look out!  Look out!'  And then attain, 'Halloa!  Below there!  Look out!'  I caught up my lamp, turned it on red, and ran towards the figure, calling, 'What's wrong?  What has happened?  Where?'  It stood just outside the blackness of the tunnel.  I advanced so close upon it that I wondered at its keeping the sleeve across its eyes.  I ran right up at it, and had my hand stretched out to pull the sleeve away, when it was gone."

"Into the tunnel?" said I.

"No.  I ran on into the tunnel, five hundred yards.  I stopped, and held my lamp above my head, and saw the figures of the measured distance, and saw the wet stains stealing down the walls and trickling through the arch.  I ran out again faster than I had run in (for I had a mortal abhorrence of the place upon me), and I looked all round the red light with my own red light, and I went up the iron ladder to the gallery atop of it, and I came down again, and ran back here.  I telegraphed both ways, 'An alarm has been given.  Is anything wrong?'  The answer came back, both ways, 'All well.'"

6