about, in front, on either side, up and down; there was no break anywhere. Either I had imagined an opening or my hole had been boarded up.     

       I went out, lighted a candle, and returned. The closet was entirely normal,—just a kitchen closet with a sloping roof; it lay under the back stairs, one small, narrow wall, and three high, wide ones. The low, narrow wall stood where I had imagined my hole. I went close and examined it by the light of my candle. There was only one peculiarity about this wall; it had a temporary look, and was made of odd, old boards, which, it seemed to me, showed signs of recent workmanship. Perhaps Henry had made repairs. I blew out my candle and stepped from the closet.     

       Sara had come back from the garden. She greeted my appearance with a low, quavering cry of fear. “Oh, my God!” Then, recovering herself, though her large face remained ashen, “Excuse me, ma'am,” she said timidly, “I wasn't expectin' to see you there”—and she added incomprehensibly—“not in the daytime, ma'am.”      

       Now, for some reason, these words gave me the most horrible chill of fear. My mind simply turned away from them. I could not question Sara of their meaning. Subconsciously, I must have refused to understand them. It is always difficult to describe such psychological phenomena, but this is one that I am sure many people have experienced. It is akin to the paralysis which attacks one in frightening dreams and sometimes in real life, and prevents escape. The sort of shock it gave me absolutely forbade my taking any notice of it. I spoke to Sara in a strained, hard voice.     

       “You have been putting the closet in order,” I said. “Has Henry been repairing it? I mean has he been mending up that—hole?”      

       “Yes, ma'am,” she said half sullenly, “accordin' to your orders.” And she glanced around as though she were afraid some one might be listening to us.     

       “My orders? I gave no orders whatever about this closet!” My voice was almost shrill, and sounded angry, though I was not angry, only terribly and quite unreasonably frightened.     

       “Just as you please, ma'am,” said Sara with that curious submissiveness and its undercurrent of something else,—“just as you say. Of course you did n't give no such orders. Not you. I just had Henry nail it up 

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