The distant clock had just struck noon when I heard the gate open, and someone approached the front door.  Since nothing but silence followed, I supposed that the occupant of the place had returned, and had chosen to do so as silently as he had gone.  Presently, however, there came from the doorstep a slight but peculiar call, as if a rat was squeaking.  It was repeated three times, and then there was the sound of footsteps quietly retreating, and the gate re-closing.  Between one and two the caller came again; there was a repetition of the same signal,—­that it was a signal I did not doubt; followed by the same retreat.  About three the mysterious visitant returned.  The signal was repeated, and, when there was no response, fingers tapped softly against the panels of the front door.  When there was still no answer, footsteps stole softly round the side of the house, and there came the signal from the rear,—­ and then, again, tapping of fingers against what was, apparently, the back door.  No notice being taken of these various proceedings, the footsteps returned the way they went, and, as before, the gate was closed.

Shortly after darkness had fallen this assiduous caller returned, to make a fourth and more resolute attempt to call attention to his presence.  From the peculiar character of his manoeuvres it seemed that he suspected that whoever was within had particular reasons for ignoring him without He went through the familiar pantomime of the three squeaky calls both at the front door and the back,—­followed by the tapping of the fingers on the panels.  This time, however, he also tried the window panes,—­I could hear, quite distinctly, the clear, yet distinct, noise of what seemed like knuckles rapping against the windows behind.  Disappointed there, he renewed his efforts at the front.  The curiously quiet footsteps came round the house, to pause before the window of the room in which I lay,—­and then something singular occurred.

While I waited for the tapping, there came, instead, the sound of someone or something, scrambling on to the window-sill,—­as if some creature, unable to reach the window from the ground, was endeavouring to gain the vantage of the sill.  Some ungainly creature, unskilled in surmounting such an obstacle as a perpendicular brick wall.  There was the noise of what seemed to be the scratching of claws, as if it experienced considerable difficulty in obtaining a hold on the unyielding surface.  What kind of creature it was I could not think,—­I was astonished to find that it was a creature at all.  I had taken it for granted that the persevering visitor was either a woman or a man.  If, however, as now seemed likely, it was some sort of animal, the fact explained the squeaking sounds,—­though what, except a rat, did squeak like that was more than I could say—­and the absence of any knocking or ringing.