There stood the doctor, entirely unmoved.  He looked directly at Nick but seemed not to see him.

His eyes were fixed, and their expression was peculiar.  One less experienced than Nick would have supposed Dr. Jarvis to be insane.

Certainly his conduct as well as his appearance seemed to justify such a conclusion.

But Nick knew better.  He recognized at once the peculiar condition in which Dr. Jarvis then was.  He had seen the phenomenon before.

“Walking in his sleep,” Nick said to himself.  “Shall I wake him here?  I think not.  Let me see what he will do.”

CHAPTER III.

The doctor offers A bribe.

Nick was not greatly surprised by his discovery.  He knew that Dr. Jarvis was a sleep-walker.

The reader may remember the case of a young woman who, in her sleep, walked nearly a mile on Broadway, and was awakened by a policeman to whom she could give no account of her wanderings.

At that time, the newspapers had a good deal to say about sleep-walking, and several good stories were printed about Dr. Jarvis.  The doctor was sensitive on the subject, and he had threatened the most dreadful vengeance if he ever found out who had betrayed his secret to the reporters.

These stories came into Nick’s mind at once.  He decided to witness this strange scene to the end.

There was, however, little more to be observed.  The doctor extinguished the lights and ascended the stairs.

He paused a moment beside the mutilated body; put away his knife, drew the cloth over the corpse, and then turned toward his room.

Nick followed, and entered the room close behind the somnambulist.  It is sometimes possible to question a person in that condition, and to learn what he would not disclose when awake.

Some such intention was in Nick’s mind, but he had no opportunity of executing it.  The doctor walked to the window, of which the shade was drawn.  Accidentally he touched the cord, and the shade, which worked with a spring, shot up, making a loud noise.

With a peculiar, hoarse cry, the doctor awoke.  He exhibited the nervous terror common at such times.  He jumped back from the window, and turned toward the bed.

Nick, disguised as Cleary, stood directly before him.  It was impossible to avoid discovery.  The moonlight flooded the room.

“Cleary!” cried the doctor, “why are you here?”

“I heard you moving about, sir,” replied Nick, imitating Cleary’s voice which had very little of the ordinary peculiarities of the negro.  Indeed, he was an educated man.

“Walking in my sleep again,” muttered the doctor.  “And such dreams!  Great Heaven! such dreams!”

“I thought you must have had a bad nightmare,” said Nick.

“I have.  It was dreadful.”

The doctor pressed his hands to his head.