When he had screwed his unwieldy form to the bottom of the stair, and came out into the court, there was Tom Fool flying across the turf in mortal terror, his face white as another moon, and his hair standing on end—­visibly in the dull moonshine.

His terror had either deafened him, or paralysed the nerves of his obedience, for the first call of his master was insufficient to stop him.  At the second, however, he halted, turned mechanically, went to him trembling, and stood before him speechless.  But when the marquis, to satisfy himself that he was really as dry as he seemed, laid his hand on his arm, the touch brought him to himself, and, assisted by his master’s questions, he was able to tell how he had fallen asleep in the chapel, had waked but a minute ago, had left it by the minstrels’ gallery, had reached the floor of the hall, and was approaching the western door, which was open, in order to cross the court to his lodging near the watch-tower, when a hellish explosion, followed by the most frightful roaring, mingled with shrieks and demoniacal laughter, arrested him; and the same instant, through the open door, he saw, as plainly as he now saw his noble master, a torrent rush from the archway, full of dim figures, wallowing and shouting.  The same moment they all vanished, and the flood poured into the hall, wetting him to the knees, and almost carrying him off his legs.

Here the marquis professed profound astonishment, remarking that the water must indeed have been thickened with devils to be able to lay hold of Tom’s legs.

‘Then,’ pursued Tom, reviving a little, ’I summoned up all my courage—­’

‘No great feat,’ said the marquis.

But Tom went on unabashed.

‘I summoned up the whole of my courage,’ he repeated, ’stepped out of the hall, carefully examined the ground, looked through the arch-way, saw nothing, and was walking slowly across the court to my lodging, pondering with myself whether to call my lord governor or sir Toby Mathews, when I heard your lordship call me.’

‘Tom!  Tom! thou liest,’ said the marquis.  ’Thou wast running as if all the devils in hell had been at thy heels.’

Tom turned deadly pale, a fresh access of terror overcoming his new-born hardihood.

‘Who were they, thinkest thou, whom thou sawest in the water, Tom?’ resumed his master.  ‘For what didst thou take them?’

Tom shook his head with an awful significance, looked behind him, and said nothing.

Perceiving there was no more to be got out of him, the marquis sent him to bed.  He went off shivering and shaking.  Three times ere he reached the watch-tower his face gleamed white over his shoulder as he went.  The next day he did not appear.  He thought himself he was doomed, but his illness was only the prostration following upon terror.