Hayden paused for an instant to stare earnestly at Burke. The detective nodded to him to continue.
“I have read deeply,” went on Hayden, “and in my spare time I could be called a bookworm. I work at my trade, but live much in the past, especially in books. For this reason, I could be sympathetic to my sister’s idea of living close to her life’s hobby, or her ‘mission,’ as she calls it.
“There is one more reason why my sister purchased the place, six weeks ago. It was the original settling place of the family, before the Revolution. As the result of a family tragedy, some hundred years or more ago, the place passed into other hands. Few new buildings are constructed in that sparsely settled, unfertile section, and most of the houses have stood for generations. Consequently, the old Hayden house was never disturbed. At the time it came back into the family it was vacant and for sale.
“They had been living there about two months when I came there to live with them. The room I occupied Sunday night is on the second floor. It is a semi-attic room, lit by one window. Before I came, the room was occupied by my niece. On my arrival it was arranged for me, and the girl and her mother occupied a bedroom downstairs.
“It was around eleven-thirty Sunday night when I went to bed, and was soon asleep. I awoke with the feeling that something was stifling me. It was as if I had a heavy cold and found difficulty in breathing. This peculiar sensation of suffocation finally caused me to rouse into complete wakefulness. The strange smothering seemed to ease as I got more fully awake. Unable to fall asleep again, I lay looking out of the window at the stars. The bed is at the end of the room, and the window was in direct sight.
“The house was intensely still. I noticed this in particular, as I remarked the absence of the city noises I had been used to. I can’t recollect that there was so much as an insect stirring. My own breathing, as in imagination I still struggled for breath, was the only sound. It appeared to fill the room with a hoarse, rasping murmur. I likened myself to a dying man, gasping his last breath. This fancy, to one of my usual practical trend, was perplexing to myself. Still, in the few moments before the things appeared, my thoughts apparently dwelt on uncanny ideas. At the same time I was conscious of a queer tingling of my body.
“As I lay staring at the faint light of the sky, I slowly became conscious of a singular illusion, or, as I am at times led to believe, a startling visitation. The dark shadows of the room appeared to be dancing rapidly before my eyes. They were streaming in long wreaths, coiling in fantastic spirals, and wafting through the room in wide, level films of blackness.
“I don’t know how I could see this, but it was plainly visible. Yet the room, except for the faint light that came from the clear, moonless sky, was in fairly deep darkness. It seemed that the moving shadows that formed before my eyes were only discernible because of their greater density. I can only liken this uncanny movement of the shadows to swaying and floating clouds of tobacco smoke, when one is smoking slowly and freely.
“For some moments I watched the movements of the shadows. Then I observed that they were forming in a more stable order. They were now lying in long, round coils of blackness, horizontally across the room, and twisting rapidly. For several moments they lay motionless, except for their rapid turning, then, as if stirred by a firm direct breeze, they undulated toward the head of the stairs. This drift brought several horizontal layers into contact. At the moment of their touching, the shadows seemed to weave into huge rolls, which streamed from sight rapidly down the stairs. The room now appeared to grow lighter, and the air clearer. Also, all sensation of smothering had left me.
“I lay there quietly after the disappearance of the shadows, pondering over the strange affair. So far, I was fairly calm, except for the wonderment of the thing. The return of the shadows was cause of my fears and suspense as to the final outcome.