Till late in the night I sat trying to piece my puzzle together, but
without success. There was a flaw in the story, a missing point in it,
somewhere, I felt certain. I often imagined I was about to touch it,
when, heigh! presto! it eluded my grasp.
"The whole affair will resolve itself into ivy-boughs," I finally,
if not truthfully, decided. "I am satisfied it is all--ivy," and I
went to bed.
Now, whether it was that I had thought too much of the ghostly
narratives associated with River Hall, the storminess of the night, the
fact of sleeping in a strange room, or the strength of a tumbler of
brandy-and-water, in which brandy took an undue lead, I cannot tell; but
during the morning hours I dreamed a dream which filled me with an
unspeakable horror, from which I awoke struggling for breath, bathed in
a cold perspiration, and with a dread upon me such as I never felt in
any waking moment of my life.
I dreamt I was lying asleep in the room I actually occupied, when I was
aroused from a profound slumber by the noise produced by some one
tapping at the window-pane. On rising to ascertain the cause of this
summons, I saw Colonel Morris standing outside and beckoning me to join
him. With that disregard of space, time, distance, and attire which
obtains in dreams, I at once stepped out into the garden.
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