There was no answer.  The vague dread transferred itself adroitly from his dream-consciousness to his now thoroughly awakened mind.  It began to dawn upon him that something was wrong.  He noticed that the fire was out, and the room dark and heavy.  He realized dimly the passage of time—­a considerable interval of time—­and that he must have been asleep several hours.  Where was he? Who was he?  What, in the name of mystery and night, had been going on during the interval?  He began to shake all over—­feverishly.  Whence came this noise that made everything in the darkness tremble?

As he fumbled hurriedly for the matchbox, his fingers caught in the folds of pillowcase and sheet, and he struggled violently to get them clear again.  It was while doing this that the impression first reached him that the room was no longer quite the same.  It had changed while he slept.  Even in the darkness he felt this, and shuddering pulled the blankets over his head and shoulders, for this idea of the changed room plucked at the center of his heart, where terror lay waiting to leap out upon him.

After what seemed five minutes he found the matchbox and struck a light, and all the time the torrent of sound poured about his ears with such an effect of bewilderment that he hardly realized what he was doing.  A strange terror poured into him that he would change with the room.  At length the match flared, and while he lit the candle with shaking fingers, he looked wildly, quickly about him.  At once the sounds rushed upon him from all directions, burying him, so to speak, beneath vehement vibrations of the air that rained in upon him....  Yes, the room had indeed changed, actually changed ... but before he could decide where the difference lay the candle died down to a mere spark, waiting for the wick to absorb the grease.  It seemed like half an hour before the yellow tongue grew again, so that he finally saw clearly.

But—­saw what?  Saw that the room had horribly altered while he slept, yes!  But how altered?  What in the name of all the world’s deities was the matter with it?  The torrent of sound, now growing louder and louder, so confused him at first, and the dancing patchwork of light and shadow the candle threw so increased his bewilderment, that for some minutes he sought in vain to steady his mind to the point of accurate observation.

“God of my Fathers!” cried Spinrobin at last under his breath, and hardly knowing what he said, “if it’s not moving!”

For this, indeed, was what he saw while the candle flame burned steadily upon a room that was no longer quite recognizable.