“One evening, while I was reading, the door of my room opened and Smith came in.  He made no attempt at ceremony.  It was after ten o’clock and I was tired, but the presence of the man immediately galvanised me into activity.  My attempts at ordinary politeness he thrust on one side at once, and began asking me to vocalise, and then pronounce for him, certain Hebrew words; and when this was done he abruptly inquired if I was not the fortunate possessor of a very rare Rabbinical Treatise, which he named.

“How he knew that I possessed this book puzzled me exceedingly; but I was still more surprised to see him cross the room and take it out of my book-shelf almost before I had had time to answer in the affirmative.  Evidently he knew exactly where it was kept.  This excited my curiosity beyond all bounds, and I immediately began asking him questions; and though, out of sheer respect for the man, I put them very delicately to him, and almost by way of mere conversation, he had only one reply for the lot.  He would look up at me from the pages of the book with an expression of complete comprehension on his extraordinary features, would bow his head a little and say very gravely—­

“’That, of course, is a perfectly proper question,’—­which was absolutely all I could ever get out of him.

“On this particular occasion he stayed with me perhaps ten or fifteen minutes.  Then he went quickly downstairs to his room with my Hebrew Treatise in his hand, and I heard him close and bolt his door.

“But a few moments later, before I had time to settle down to my book again, or to recover from the surprise his visit had caused me, I heard the door open, and there stood Smith once again beside my chair.  He made no excuse for his second interruption, but bent his head down to the level of my reading lamp and peered across the flame straight into my eyes.

“‘I hope,’ he whispered, ‘I hope you are never disturbed at night?’

“‘Eh?’ I stammered, ’disturbed at night?  Oh no, thanks, at least, not that I know of—­’

“‘I’m glad,’ he replied gravely, appearing not to notice my confusion and surprise at his question.  ’But, remember, should it ever be the case, please let me know at once.’

“And he was gone down the stairs and into his room again.

“For some minutes I sat reflecting upon his strange behaviour.  He was not mad, I argued, but was the victim of some harmless delusion that had gradually grown upon him as a result of his solitary mode of life; and from the books he used, I judged that it had something to do with mediaeval magic, or some system of ancient Hebrew mysticism.  The words he asked me to pronounce for him were probably ‘Words of Power,’ which, when uttered with the vehemence of a strong will behind them, were supposed to produce physical results, or set up vibrations in one’s own inner being that had the effect of a partial lifting of the veil.