They had but one inlet, which was from the room adjoining.

There was no window in the lower one, and in the upper, a small aperture which communicated light and air, but would scarcely admit the body.

The door which led into this, was close to my bed-head, and was always locked, but when I myself was within.

The avenues below were accustomed to be closed and bolted at nights.
The maid was my only companion, and she could not reach my chamber without previously passing through the opposite chamber, and the middle passage, of which, however, the doors were usually unfastened.

If she had occasioned this noise, she would have answered my repeated calls.
No other conclusion, therefore, was left me, but that I had mistaken the sounds, and that my imagination had transformed some casual noise into the voice of a human creature.