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Rh door was repeated. Then I arose quickly, put down my book, and went swiftly into the dining-room, turning up the gas in the hall as I passed.

The dining-room was empty. The supper things stood exactly as I had left them, and the kitchen door was shut as usual. I opened it and passed through the kitchen. Nothing seemed amiss, and I lit the gas for a closer inspection. Everything was in its place, and the door into the storeroom was locked according to custom. I unlocked it and looked in. Nothing had been disturbed. I turned the light full on in the dining-room and went back to my book. It was closed, and lying on the corner of the piano. I had left it open, on a chair.

It was very curious, whatever this was that was happening, and it distracted my attention from the book for several minutes, but at last the book held me captive again. I do not know how long I sat absorbed in reading, but I became suddenly conscious that the room was cold. Then I felt a soft draught. I put down the book and went to the hall. It was dark. The light was out.

I was certain that I had left it turned well up, and I went to see what was the matter. Before I reached it the kitchen door was shut again with a thundering bang, and I saw that the dining-room also was in darkness. I put a match to the gas-jet in the hall and went into the dining-room. One of the windows I had left shut and fastened had been thrown half-way up and the heavy iron shutters were wide open. Just then Catchings and Hopkins came in.

"What's the matter, Seagrave?" Hopkins called out. "You've got the house as cold as a barn."

"If you will tell me what is the matter," I replied, "you will solve a very pretty puzzle."

Then I told them what had occurred. They laughed a raucous laugh that was not pretty. Nor was it expressive of belief.

"Pipe dreams," said Catchings, reassuringly, to Hopkins.

"He's been smoking. Where did you get it, Seagrave?"

I did not answer, but refastened the shutters securely and