But immediately on the heels of this first impression came the doubt of his own senses.

Whatever had happened had been so ephemeral, so faint, so intangible, that now he wondered if he had not deceived himself, after all.

But the reaction followed.
Surely, there had been Something.

And from that moment began for him the most poignant uncertainty of mind.

Gradually he drew back into the garden, holding his breath, listening to every faintest sound, walking upon tiptoe.