“And then, abruptly, once more I thought I heard the sound of that huge, soft tread on the aisle, and this time closer to me.  There was an awful little silence, during which I had the feeling that something enormous was bending over toward me, from the aisle....  And then, through the booming of the blood in my ears, there came a slight sound from the place where my camera stood—­a disagreeable sort of slithering sound, and then a sharp tap.  I had the lantern ready in my left hand, and now I snapped it on, desperately, and shone it straight above me, for I had a conviction that there was something there.  But I saw nothing.  Immediately I flashed the light at the camera, and along the aisle, but again there was nothing visible.  I wheeled ’round, shooting the beam of light in a great circle about the place; to and fro I shone it, jerking it here and there, but it showed me nothing.

“I had stood up the instant that I had seen that there was nothing in sight over me, and now I determined to visit the chancel, and see whether the dagger had been touched.  I stepped out of the pew into the aisle, and here I came to an abrupt pause, for an almost invincible, sick repugnance was fighting me back from the upper part of the Chapel.  A constant, queer prickling went up and down my spine, and a dull ache took me in the small of the back, as I fought with myself to conquer this sudden new feeling of terror and horror.  I tell you, that no one who has not been through these kinds of experiences, has any idea of the sheer, actual physical pain attendant upon, and resulting from, the intense nerve strain that ghostly fright sets up in the human system.  I stood there feeling positively ill.  But I got myself in hand, as it were, in about half a minute, and then I went, walking, I expect, as jerky as a mechanical tin man, and switching the light from side to side, before and behind, and over my head continually.  And the hand that held my revolver sweated so much, that the thing fairly slipped in my fist.  Does not sound very heroic, does it?

“I passed through the short chancel, and reached the step that led up to the small gate in the chancel rail.  I threw the beam from my lantern upon the dagger.  Yes, I thought, it’s all right.  Abruptly, it seemed to me that there was something wanting, and I leaned forward over the chancel gate to peer, holding the light high.  My suspicion was hideously correct. The dagger had gone. Only the cross-shaped sheath hung there above the altar.

“In a sudden, frightened flash of imagination, I pictured the thing adrift in the Chapel, moving here and there, as though of its own volition; for whatever Force wielded it, was certainly beyond visibility.  I turned my head stiffly over to the left, glancing frightenedly behind me, and flashing the light to help my eyes.  In the same instant I was struck a tremendous blow over the left breast, and hurled backward from the chancel rail, into the aisle, my armor clanging