Neither of us, I think, was disposed to talk.  We both were unwilling to break the silence, wherein, with all our ears, we listened for the slightest disturbance.

And now my attention turned anew to the course of the slowly creeping moon rays.  In my mind an idea was struggling for definition.  There was something significant in the lunar lighting of the room.  Why, I asked myself, had the attack been made at one o’clock?  Did the time signify anything?  If so, what?  I looked toward Bristol.

His figure, the chair upon which he sat, were sharply outlined by the cold light.  The wall behind me, and to my left, was illuminated brilliantly; but no light fell directly upon me.

The idea was taking shape.  From the loggia and the avenue Bristol, I reasoned, must be clearly visible.  From the shrubbery on the south, through the other windows could I be seen?  Yes, silhouetted against the moonlight!

A faint sound, quite indescribable, came to my ears from somewhere outside-beyond.

“My God!” whispered Bristol.  “Did you hear it?”

“Yes!  What?”

“It must have been Morris!—­”

Bristol was half standing, one hand upon the arm of the chair, the other concealed, but grasping his revolver as I well knew.  I, too, had my revolver in my hand, and as I twisted in my seat, preparatory to rising, in sheer nervousness I dropped the weapon upon the carpet.

With an exclamation of dismay, I stooped quickly to recover it.

As I did so something whistled past my ear, so closely as almost to touch it—­and struck with a dull thud upon the wall beyond!

“Bristol!” I whispered.

But as I raised my eyes to him he seemed to crumple up, and fell loosely forward into the patch of moonlight spread upon the floor!  “God in heaven!” I said aloud.

In a cold sweat of fear I crouched there, for it had become evident to me that, as I bent, I was entirely in shadow.

There was a rustling in the bushes on the left; but before I could turn in that direction, my attention was claimed elsewhere.  Over into the loggia leapt an almost naked brown figure!

It was that of a small but strongly built man, who carried a short, exceedingly thick bamboo rod in his hand.  My fear was too great to admit of my accurately observing anything at that time, but I noticed that some kind of leather thong or loop was attached to the end of the squat cane.

The panic fear of the supernatural was strongly upon me, and I was unable to realize that this Eastern apparition was a creature of flesh and blood.  With my nerves strung up to snapping point, I crouched watching him.  He entered the room, bending over the body of Bristol.

A hot breath fanned my cheek!

At that my overwrought nerves betrayed me.  I uttered a stifled cry, looking upward . . . and into a pair of gleaming eyes which looked down into mine!