I held my breath, listening intently for every sound; but sound there was none, save those of the night and its denizens.

Owls hooted in the forest; bats, taking advantage of the cessation of the rain, flitted about silently, like shadows in the air.

But there was no more sign of moving ghost or phantom, or whatever I had seen might have been--if, indeed, there had been anything except imagination.
So, after waiting awhile, I returned to my room, closed the window, drew the grille across again, and dragged the heavy curtain before the opening; then, having extinguished my candles, went to bed in the dark.
In a few minutes I must have been asleep.
"What was that ?" I almost heard the words of my own thought as I sat up in bed wide awake.

To memory rather than present hearing the disturbing sound had seemed like the faint tapping at the window.

For some seconds I listened, mechanically but intently, with bated breath and that quick beating of the heart which in a timorous person speaks for fear, and for expectation in another.