“Most extraordinary,” murmured Harley; “and you were in your night attire?”
“I was.”
“And what had awakened you?”
“An accident. I believe a lucky accident. I had cut my bare foot upon the gravel and the pain awakened me.”
“You had no recollection of any dream which had prompted you to go down into the garden?”
“None whatever.”
“Does your room face in that direction?”
“It does not. It faces the lake on the south of the house. I had descended to a side door, unbarred it, and walked entirely around the east wing before I awakened.”
“Your room faces the lake,” murmured Harley.
“Yes.”