I crouched back to the wall, revolver in hand, and it seemed as though the blood in my veins had turned to ice.  What legerdemain was this!  The candle was there, and not half burned, when I entered.  I saw it with my own eyes.  How then—­in the name of God—­could it have vanished so completely?  There was no germ of superstition in my nature, and, had there originally been, it could never have out lived the practical experiences of the past few years.  There was but one way to account for this occurrence—­some human, aware of my presence, had removed the candle, had stolen through the pitch darkness silently, and as swiftly disappeared.  I was locked in, trapped, and not alone!

I confess for an instant I was panic-stricken, shrinking back from the horror of the black unknown which enveloped me.  I could see and hear nothing, yet I seemed to feel a ghastly presence skulking behind that impenetrable veil.  My first inclination was to creep back to the door, and escape into the outer passage.  Yet pride restrained me, pride quickly supplemented by a return of courage.  It was a man surely, a thing of flesh and blood, I was called upon to meet.  He was no better armed than myself, and he possessed no advantage in that darkness, except his knowledge of surroundings.  I straightened up, and advanced slowly, testing the wall with my hand, every muscle stiffened for action, listening for the slightest sound.  I encountered nothing, heard nothing, until my groping fingers touched the rough plank of a sleeping berth.  I explored this cautiously, lifting the edge of a coarse blanket, and reaching up to make sure the one above was also unoccupied.  Satisfied that both were empty I worked my way blindly along to the second tier.  As I reached into the lower of the two bunks my finger came in contact with some substance that left the impression of a human body beneath the blanket.  I jerked away, startled, expecting my light touch would arouse the occupant.  There was no movement, however, nor could I distinguish any sound of breathing.

Convinced I had been mistaken, I reached in once more to assure myself of the truth, and my hand touched cold, clammy flesh.  The shock of discovery sent me reeling backward so suddenly that I slipped and fell.  It was a man—­a dead man!  In imagination I could see the wide-open, sightless eyes, staring toward me through the dark.  Trembling with the unreasonable terror of unstrung nerves, I yet managed to regain my feet.  It was not the dead body, so much as the black gloom, which robbed me of manhood.  I could not see where to go, how to escape.  At whatever cost I must procure light.  The very desperation yielded me reckless courage.  Shaking as with palsy, yet with teeth clinched, I reached forward, groping my way back to the side of the bunk.  I touched the edge of the blanket, and thrust it away, feeling the body.  The man was fully dressed, lying upon his back, and I experienced no difficulty in attaining the pockets of his coat.  In the third I found what I sought—­a box of matches.