"for my sake, watch! it is but for two days longer,—the fatal week will then be over. oh! i implore you not to let your scepticism make you careless. i trust you and depend upon you." weldon gave me the note himself. it was not signed. he watched me curiously as i read it. i tore it up and threw the pieces in the grate.

"miss ottley is afraid that your friend belleville meditates doing you an injury," i said carelessly, "and knowing that i am your guest, she has appointed me your guardian angel. evidently she imagines that you are a more sensible person than i am. she said nothing about it to you?"

"no," replied the captain. "but she made me promise not to leave your side for the next two days." he gave a sheepish laugh. "i'm afraid she has let you in for a lot of boredom, old man. but don't you bother to be polite! if you feel like kicking me at any time to relieve your feelings i'll take it lying down. you see, i couldn't help my self. she has such a way with her—and although[pg 174] i argued and protested and begged her to consider you—it was no use. i had to give in."

"you needn't apologise, weldon. i believe i am strong enough to survive the infliction, and i promise not to kick you. how is miss ottley?"

"she is well, although she seems nervous and depressed. that is probably because her father is ill and she has been nursing him. you have heard, i suppose, of his latest doings?"

"no. as you are aware, i have not been out of doors for two days, and i have carefully refrained from newspapers."

"he has cornered the copper market. they say his fortune is increasing at the rate of half a million a day. but he is not strong enough to bear the excitement. in my opinion it is killing him. i saw him this afternoon. he looks ghastly. he was a little delirious, i fancy. they left me alone with him for a moment or two and he took the opportunity to warn me not to sleep to-night if i valued my life. he said a terrible danger is hanging over my head. but dr. belleville came in just then, and it was surprising how sensible he got again, immediately. naturally i said nothing of this to may. it would only have made her miserable. it is wonderful how she dotes on the poor old fellow. i don't know what she would do if he were to die."

"how did belleville treat you?"

"for a wonder with the greatest courtesy. he took me aside and begged me to forget any [pg 175]occasion of offence. he appealed to me as the successful one—and he gave me his word, unasked, that he would never again do anything to hurt may's feelings or mine. after all, he's not such a bad fellow, pinsent. one must make allowances. it's not his fault that he is in love with may. he can't help that. my wonder is that every man who knows her is not."

"i suppose you forgave him?"

"we shook hands, certainly. you wouldn't have me bear malice, would you? remember! i'm in a position to be generous—and he made the advance."

"my dear lad," i answered slowly, "i wouldn't have an atom of you changed for worlds. you are an absolute ass and all that sort of thing, but somehow or other you make me want to be the same sort of idiot, and i feel positively ashamed at times that i cannot."

you should have seen his face flush, and the hangdog way he tried to pass over the compliment by cursing an untied shoestring and me at the same time for trying to "pull a fellow's leg."

we went for a ride in the park that afternoon, and just to be pleasant the captain forced on me the gift of his finest arab and a permanent stall in his stable in which to keep the animal. he knew, the dear fool, that i could not afford to keep it myself. i believe he would have suffered tortures had i refused him. but indeed i had no thought. the[pg 176] gift completely captivated me; i felt like a child with a new toy, and as proud as any peacock. the horse was a noble creature. i named him forthwith "abd-el-kadir," and the pair of us spent the evening petting him, until it was time to dine. we had the gayest possible meal and afterwards went to the empire, reaching home a little before midnight like reputable bachelors. the captain, as usual with him, fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. but i had a trust to fulfil and, ridiculous as it may seem, as soon as i heard young weldon's quiet breathing it began to weigh upon me. all sorts of mad questions began to ask themselves over in my mind. what if sir robert ottley and dr. belleville had really discovered some wonderful secret of nature? what if belleville had really determined to assassinate his rival? what if—in that act—he purposed to make me appear to be the criminal? what if—as the medium had hinted—they had found a way to make themselves invisible? it was no use calling myself names, and saying mentally: "pinsent, for heaven's sake be reasonable." something had come over me. for the first time in my life i was nervous. mysterious fears obsessed me. for an hour i lay on my side and watched the captain. then i could stand it no longer. i got up and stole over to the door. it was locked securely. i looked under both beds and peered into wardrobes and cupboards. when i had perfectly[pg 177] convinced myself that weldon and i were the only occupants of the room i felt a little better. but only a very little. i resolved to spend the night watching. i lighted a cigar and then threw myself into an armchair, fixing my eyes on the captain. he slept like a babe. i do not know when it was exactly that i became actually aware of a third presence in the room. probably the idea had been gradually growing upon me, for i experienced no sudden shock of surprise when conviction displaced doubt. i said to myself, "this person, whoever he may be, has come here intending to strangle or smother weldon in his sleep. but my watchfulness has baffled him. what will he do?" i was soon to be informed. a slight, a very slight, noise drew my attention to the farthest corner of the room. over a little cupboard hung the captain's sword in his scabbard. the sword, but not the scabbard, was moving. the blade was gradually appearing; and my flesh crept to see that it was, apparently of its own volition, moving, not downwards, but upwards along the wall.

i distinctly saw its shadow appear and lengthen on the wall. but no other shadow was cast to explain the cause. for a moment i was petrified—paralysed by an abhorrence of the supernatural. then the sword entirely left the scabbard. it advanced slowly, point downwards, borne on air into the room. as it moved it swished slightly to and fro. the invisible hand that held it must have been[pg 178] trembling. the thought recovered me. i stood up. the sword stopped. i flashed a glance around the room. the poker in the fireplace attracted my attention. i gave a sudden bound and reached it. the sword flashed across the room towards captain weldon's bed. god knows how i got there in time to save him, but i did. the point was quivering at his throat when i dashed it aside and with the return blow crashed the poker upon a hard thickness of transparent matter. the clang of steel awoke weldon, but i had no time for him. the sword was in retreat. i followed it. it was making for the door. i raised the poker for another blow, but on the instant the blade fell crashing to the boards and i heard the key turning in the lock. i hurled myself against the panels and was brought up against a body. thank god, though i could not see it i could feel it. it was a man. "weldon!" i shouted, and was locked in a deadly struggle. over and over we rolled; the invisible man and i. weldon stood over us, looking on like one in a dream. he could only see me, and he thought i had gone mad and was behaving as maniacs sometimes do. the invisible man was strong—strong. he twined his hands around my throat and i could not prevent him. but slowly, steadily, surely, i forced his chin back. i wished to break his neck. i have an impression he was nude, but cannot be sure. i twined my right hand in his hair, with my left around his neck. i drew him to me. i was[pg 179] undermost. to save himself he began to beat my skull against the boards. it was then that weldon intervened. he seized my wrists and tried to lift me up, to save me, as he thought, from doing myself an injury. but all he did was to save the life of the invisible man. weldon's grasp on my wrists forced mine in some measure to relax. i put forth all my strength, but in vain. the invisible man used his chance and writhed away from me. i struggled afoot, casting weldon off, but too late. the door opened before our eyes and our enemy, unseen, fled, banging the door behind him. i heard the patter of feet as he departed. the captain uttered an oath. "oh! you fool, you fool!" i cried at him.

"by george!" gasped weldon. "did you see that door?" he rushed forward and opened it again, peering out into the passage.

i fell into a chair spent and panting.

presently weldon came back. he picked up his sword and examined it. there was a great gap in the edge near the point where i had struck it with the poker. "what is the meaning of all this?" he cried. i told him as soon as i was able. but from the first he did not believe me, and he was honest enough to say so. how could i blame him? the story sounded incredible, even to me, while i was telling it. weldon adopted the most charitable possible view. i had dreamed everything and acted the somnambulist. he admitted[pg 180] that it was a queer circumstance, the door opening and shutting so unexpectedly. but no doubt one of the other lodgers in the house had tried it in passing—some late bird a bit under the weather, weldon thought—and finding it yield had banged it shut again. it was no use retorting that the door had been locked—weldon merely laughed and asked what more likely than that i had turned the latch before smashing his best blade? he was quite upset about his sword. it had been carried by his grandfather at waterloo. he plainly considered the damage i had done to it was the only serious occurrence of the night. but he strove, like a hero, to keep me from realising just how bad he did feel about it. i ceased protesting at last, and abandoned the vain task of trying to convince him of the deadly peril that had menaced him. he returned the sword to its scabbard and with a subdued sigh got back into bed again. within ten minutes he was fast asleep. as for me, i paced the floor till morning, thinking, thinking, thinking. i have no shame in confessing that i was horribly afraid; not of the immediate present, but the future. i did not expect our mysterious assailant to return that night. but what of the morrow? i am not a believer in the supernatural or i must have set down the unseen marauder as a spirit. but i had felt and wrestled with the thing, and knew it for a man. i had heard the patter of its feet. moreover, the memory of the séance and navarro's dramatic [pg 181]recitation supplied me with a sort of clue. what if navarro had not been acting, but had really been clairvoyant? who shall dare to define the limits of the possible? was it more marvellous that he should have heard and seen things really happening in a trance, than that i—in full possession of all my faculties—had wrestled with a man invisible in the bright glare of an incandescent lamp? i said to myself: "it is necessary to assume that navarro is a true medium, if only for the sake of argument. well, in that case it is clear that dr. belleville and sir robert ottley had found in the tomb of ptahmes a papyrus containing a tremendous scientific secret. this secret is one which teaches its possessors how to control forces of nature, in a manner which my imagination can only guess at, for the production of a physical result which i have actually experienced. they have learned how to override the laws of light. they have discovered a means of not only rendering opaque objects transparent, but positively invisible. and they are using their secret knowledge to further their nefarious designs. sir robert ottley is using it to increase his fortune by spying out the financial secrets of his business rivals. dr. belleville is using it to accomplish the destruction of captain weldon, his rival in love. and, in all probability, they both intend it to remove me from their path because they fear that i suspect them."

it must not be supposed that i adopted these [pg 182]conclusions with any sort of confidence. they entered my mind and remained there. but i received them churlishly and treated them as unwelcome guests. and the only reason that i did not expel them was because i could not discover, try as i would, any more substantial or sensible explanation of an event which they pretended to explain.

when the dawn broke and the light of day began to steal into the room between the shutters i looked around and shook my head. after all, had i fallen asleep against my will and dreamed the whole thing, as weldon believed? it might be so. the intellect is a strange, elusive, shadowy affair. it slips from one's control at times. the memory easily clogs. the imagination is easily overheated. and one is not the best judge of one's own experiences. science had taught me so much, at least, that one cannot always accept the evidence of sense. i began to doubt, to cast about me, and to vote myself absurd. with the rising of the sun, i flung back the shutters and looked forth on a vista of chimneys and leaded roofs. they were so manifestly real and solid and prosaic that all my brain expanded to a sense of ridicule except one small part, which began to shrivel up under the douche i poured upon it, of what i called cold common-sense. but it did not entirely shrivel up. it insisted on certain reservations. it said to me, "pinsent, my man, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. you have no[pg 183] right to ill-treat a part of your intelligence which—even though it may have erred—served you to the best of its ability. and can you be sure it erred? if it hap that it did not, you would never forgive yourself for flouting it. be wise in time! don't prejudge the case! wait and watch! take precautions! guard yourself—and, above all, guard your charge!"

i determined to suspend judgment. above all, i determined to guard my charge. but i confess it was with a curling lip i made the resolution. there is something in sunlight, some all-subduing power which irresistibly dries up the fountain springs of the imagination. i cannot conceive a novelist writing a fanciful story in the sunlight. can you? and the sunlight was pouring into the room when i came to my resolve.