It was early morning when I had been taken ill--not much past eight when I had met the monk and sought his assistance for the poor little fruit-seller who had after all perished alone in his sufferings.

Now supposing my illness had lasted some hours, I might have fallen into a trance--died--as those around me had thought, somewhere about noon.

In that case they would certainly have buried me with as little delay as possible--before sunset at all events.

Thinking these points over one by one, I came to the conclusion that the bell I had just heard must have struck midnight--the midnight of the very day of my burial.

I shivered; a kind of nervous dread stole over me.