top, and standing widely from his legs.  His hat was broad and slouched, with a feather trailing over one side.  His iron-gray hair hung in thick masses on his neck; and he had a short grizzled beard.  He walked slowly round the room, as if examining that all was safe; then, hanging his hat on a peg beside the door, he sat down in the elbow-chair, and, leaning his elbow on the table, he fixed his eyes on Dolph with an unmoving and deadening stare.

Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he had been brought up in an implicit belief in ghosts and goblins.  A thousand stories came swarming to his mind, that he had heard about this building; and as he looked at this strange personage, with his uncouth garb, his pale visage, his grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring, fish-like eye, his teeth began to chatter, his hair to rise on his head, and a cold sweat to break out all over his body.  How long he remained in this situation he could not tell, for he was like one fascinated.  He could not take his gaze off from the spectre; but lay staring at him with his whole intellect absorbed in the contemplation.  The old man remained seated behind the table, without stirring or turning an eye, always keeping a dead steady glare upon Dolph.  At length the household cock from a neighbouring farm clapped his wings, and gave a loud cheerful crow that rung over the fields.  At the sound, the old man slowly rose and took down his hat from the peg; the door opened and closed after him; he was heard to go slowly down the staircase—­tramp—­tramp—­tramp! —­and when he had got to the bottom, all was again silent.  Dolph lay and listened earnestly; counted every footfall; listened and listened if the steps should return—­until, exhausted by watching and agitation, he fell into a troubled sleep.

Daylight again brought fresh courage and assurance.  He would fain have considered all that had passed as a mere dream; yet there stood the chair in which the unknown had seated himself; there was the table on which he had leaned; there was the peg on which he had hung his hat; and there was the door, locked precisely as he himself had locked it, with the chair placed against it.  He hastened down-stairs and examined the doors and windows; all were exactly in the same state in which he had left them, and there was no apparent way by which any being could have entered and left the house without leaving some trace behind.  “Pooh!” said Dolph to himself, “it was all a dream;”—­but it would not do; the more he endeavoured to shake the scene off from his mind, the more it haunted him.

Though he persisted in a strict silence as to all that he had seen or heard, yet his looks betrayed the uncomfortable night that he had passed.  It was evident that there was something wonderful hidden under this mysterious reserve.  The doctor took him into the study,—­locked the door, and sought to have a full and confidential communication; but he could get nothing out of him.  Frau Ilsy