"A nice time in the morning to frighten honest people out of their wits!" Isaac paid his bill, and the landlord let him out at the front door, asking, with a grin of contempt, as he undid the strong fastenings, whether "the murdering woman got in that way." They parted without a word on either side.

The rain had ceased, but the night was dark, and the wind bleaker than ever.

Little did the darkness, or the cold, or the uncertainty about the way home matter to Isaac.

If he had been turned out into a wilderness in a thunder-storm it would have been a relief after what he had suffered in the bedroom of the inn.
What was the fair woman with the knife?
The creature of a dream, or that other creature from the unknown world called among men by the name of ghost?
He could make nothing of the mystery--had made nothing of it, even when it was midday on Wednesday, and when he stood, at last, after many times missing his road, once more on the doorstep of home..