My Library

few of them; and for this purpose I, accompanied by the concierge, who had seen his master dash them away, went into the courtyard where he had thrown them. Carefully and long we searched over the smooth stone pavements. The marks where they had struck were there, but not a single coin could be found. It was absolutely certain that no person in the house had picked them up, for all these were in attendance on the patron. It was equally certain that no one from the street had done so; for the gate was fast bolted and shut, and had been ever since I had entered the premises to inquire of the porter. “At length we gave up the task of finding them as utterly hopeless. I looked at the porter and shook my head; the porter looked at me and shook his head in return, as much as to say, ‘It is a very strange affair!’ At that moment a voice, coming from God knows where, for it seemed to issue neither from above nor below, in the house or out of it—a hollow, half-pathetic, halfcynical voice, echoed our unspoken thought—‘It is a VERY strange affair!’ The horror-stricken porter crossed himself devoutly, and, falling on his knees, began to pray, while I in the meanwhile undid the bolts, opened the port, and rushed into the open street. “The thing was altogether of so weird a character, that I almost doubted the evidence of my senses; yet, on recalling all the