He had paused. His demeanour was becoming odder and odder.
‘On my entry he was engaged in forcing an entry into my bureau. I need hardly say that I advanced to seize him. But—I could not.’
‘You could not?—How do you mean you could not?’
‘I mean simply what I say. You must understand that this was no ordinary felon. Of what nationality he was I cannot tell you. He only uttered two words, and they were certainly in English, but apart from that he was dumb. He wore no covering on his head or feet. Indeed, his only garment was a long dark flowing cloak which, as it fluttered about him, revealed that his limbs were bare.’
‘An unique costume for a burglar.’
‘The instant I saw him I realised that he was in some way connected with that adventure in the Rue de Rabagas. What he said and did, proved it to the hilt.’
‘What did he say and do?’
‘As I approached to effect his capture, he pronounced aloud two words which recalled that awful scene the recollection of which always lingers in my brain, and of which I never dare to permit myself to think. Their very utterance threw me into a sort of convulsion.’
‘What were the words?’
Mr Lessingham opened his mouth,—and shut it. A marked change took place in the expression of his countenance. His eyes became fixed and staring,—resembling the glassy orbs of the somnambulist. For a moment I feared that he was going to give me an object lesson in the ‘visitations’ of which I had heard so much. I rose, with a view of offering him assistance. He motioned me back.