Hammond stood holding the ends of the cord that bound the Invisible, twisted round his hand, while before him, self-supporting as it were, he beheld a rope laced and interlaced, and stretching tightly around a vacant space.  I never saw a man look so thoroughly stricken with awe.  Nevertheless his face expressed all the courage and determination which I knew him to possess.  His lips, although white, were set firmly, and one could perceive at a glance that, although stricken with fear, he was not daunted.

The confusion that ensued among the guests of the house who were witnesses of this extraordinary scene between Hammond and myself,—­who beheld the pantomime of binding this struggling Something,—­who beheld me almost sinking from physical exhaustion when my task of jailer was over,—­the confusion and terror that took possession of the bystanders, when they saw all this, was beyond description.  The weaker ones fled from the apartment.  The few who remained clustered near the door and could not be induced to approach Hammond and his Charge.  Still incredulity broke out through their terror.  They had not the courage to satisfy themselves, and yet they doubted.  It was in vain that I begged of some of the men to come near and convince themselves by touch of the existence in that room of a living being which was invisible.  They were incredulous, but did not dare to undeceive themselves.  How could a solid, living, breathing body be invisible, they asked.  My reply was this.  I gave a sign to Hammond, and both of us—­conquering our fearful repugnance to touch the invisible creature—­lifted it from the ground, manacled as it was, and took it to my bed.  Its weight was about that of a boy of fourteen.

“Now my friends,” I said, as Hammond and myself held the creature suspended over the bed, “I can give you self-evident proof that here is a solid, ponderable body, which, nevertheless, you cannot see.  Be good enough to watch the surface of the bed attentively.”

I was astonished at my own courage in treating this strange event so calmly; but I had recovered from my first terror, and felt a sort of scientific pride in the affair, which dominated every other feeling.

The eyes of the bystanders were immediately fixed on my bed.  At a given signal Hammond and I let the creature fall.  There was a dull sound of a heavy body alighting on a soft mass.  The timbers of the bed creaked.  A deep impression marked itself distinctly on the pillow, and on the bed itself.  The crowd who witnessed this gave a low cry, and rushed from the room.  Hammond and I were left alone with our Mystery.

We remained silent for some time, listening to the low, irregular breathing of the creature on the bed, and watching the rustle of the bedclothes as it impotently struggled to free itself from confinement.  Then Hammond spoke.

“Harry, this is awful.”

“Ay, awful.”

“But not unaccountable.”