For the rest we discovered nothing of interest.  There was a gloomy little backyard, with very high walls.  The stones of this yard were very damp—­and what with the damp, and what with the dust and smoke-grime on the pavement, our feet left a slight impression where we passed.  And now appeared the first strange phenomenon witnessed by myself in this strange abode.  I saw, just before me, the print of a foot suddenly form itself, as it were.  I stopped, caught hold of my servant, and pointed to it.  In advance of that footprint as suddenly dropped another.  We both saw it.  I advanced quickly to the place; the footprint kept advancing before me, a small footprint—­the foot of a child:  the impression was too faint thoroughly to distinguish the shape, but it seemed to us both that it was the print of a naked foot.  This phenomenon ceased when we arrived at the opposite wall, nor did it repeat itself on returning.

We remounted the stairs, and entered the rooms on the ground floor, a dining parlour, a small back-parlour, and a still smaller third room that had been probably appropriated to a footman—­all still as death.  We then visited the drawing-rooms, which seemed fresh and new.  In the front room I seated myself in an armchair.  F——­ placed on the table the candlestick with which he had lighted us.  I told him to shut the door.  As he turned to do so, a chair opposite to me moved from the wall quickly and noiselessly, and dropped itself about a yard from my own chair, immediately fronting it.

“Why, this is better than the turning-tables,” said I, with a half-laugh—­and as I laughed, my dog put back his head and howled.

F——­, coming back, had not observed the movement of the chair.  He employed himself now in stilling the dog.  I continued to gaze on the chair, and fancied I saw on it a pale blue misty outline of a human figure, but an outline so indistinct that I could only distrust my own vision.  The dog now was quiet.  “Put back that chair opposite to me,” said I to F——­; “put it back to the wall.”

F——­ obeyed.  “Was that you, sir?” said he, turning abruptly.

“I—­what!”

“Why, something struck me.  I felt it sharply on the shoulder—­just here.”

“No,” said I.  “But we have jugglers present, and though we may not discover their tricks, we shall catch them before they frighten us.”

We did not stay long in the drawing-rooms—­in fact, they felt so damp and so chilly that I was glad to get to the fire upstairs.  We locked the doors of the drawing-rooms—­a precaution which, I should observe, we had taken with all the rooms we had searched below.  The bedroom my servant had selected for me was the best on the floor—­a large one, with two windows fronting the street.  The four-posted bed, which took up no inconsiderable space, was opposite to the fire, which burned clear and bright; a door in the wall to the left, between the bed and the window, communicated with the room which my servant appropriated to himself.