height:  he flew at me, gripping my shoulder.  “I’ve got him, Colonel!  I’ve got him!” he cried, with a voice of sudden exultation.  He thought it was a man, and was at once relieved.  But at that moment the voice burst forth again between us, at our feet,—­more close to us than any separate being could be.  He dropped off from me, and fell against the wall, his jaw dropping as if he were dying.  I suppose, at the same moment, he saw that it was me whom he had clutched.  I, for my part, had scarcely more command of myself.  I snatched the light out of his hand, and flashed it all about me wildly.  Nothing,—­the juniper-bush which I thought I had never seen before, the heavy growth of the glistening ivy, the brambles waving.  It was close to my ears now, crying, crying, pleading as if for life.  Either I heard the same words Roland had heard, or else, in my excitement, his imagination got possession of mine.  The voice went on, growing into distinct articulation, but wavering about, now from one point, now from another, as if the owner of it were moving slowly back and forward.  “Mother! mother!” and then an outburst of wailing.  As my mind steadied, getting accustomed (as one’s mind gets accustomed to anything), it seemed to me as if some uneasy, miserable creature was pacing up and down before a closed door.  Sometimes—­but that must have been excitement—­I thought I heard a sound like knocking, and then another burst, “Oh, mother! mother!” All this close, close to the space where I was standing with my lantern, now before me, now behind me:  a creature restless, unhappy, moaning, crying, before the vacant door-way, which no one could either shut or open more.

“Do you hear it, Bagley? do you hear what it is saying?” I cried, stepping in through the door-way.  He was lying against the wall, his eyes glazed, half dead with terror.  He made a motion of his lips as if to answer me, but no sounds came; then lifted his hand with a curious imperative movement as if ordering me to be silent and listen.  And how long I did so I cannot tell.  It began to have an interest, an exciting hold upon me, which I could not describe.  It seemed to call up visibly a scene any one could understand,—­a something shut out, restlessly wandering to and fro; sometimes the voice dropped, as if throwing itself down, sometimes wandered off a few paces, growing sharp and clear.  “Oh, mother, let me in! oh, mother, mother, let me in! oh, let me in!” Every word was clear to me.  No wonder the boy had gone wild with pity.  I tried to steady my mind upon Roland, upon his conviction that I could do something, but my head swam with the excitement, even when I partially overcame the terror.  At last the words died away, and there was a sound of sobs and moaning.  I cried out, “In the name of God, who are you?” with a kind of feeling in my mind that to use the name of God was profane, seeing that I did not believe in ghosts or anything supernatural; but I did it all the same, and waited,