in any great railway staff. He had been, when
young (if I could believe it, sitting in that
hut; he scarcely could), a student of natural
philosophy, and had attended lectures; but he
had run wild, misused his opportunities, gone
down, and never risen again. He had no complaint
to offer about that. He had made his
bed, and he lay upon it. It was far too late to
make another.

All that I have here condensed, he said in a
quiet manner, with his grave dark regards
divided between me and the fire. He threw in
the word " Sir," from time to time, and
especially when he referred to his youth: as though
to request me to understand that he claimed to
be nothing but what I found him. He was
several times interrupted by the little bell, and
had to read off messages, and send replies.
Once, he had to stand without the door, and
display a flag as a train passed, and make some
verbal communication to the driver. ln the
discharge of his duties I observed him to be
remarkably exact and vigilant, breaking off his
discourse at a syllable, and remaining silent
until what he had to do was done.

In a word, I should have set this man down
as one of the safest of men to be employed in
that capacity, but for the circumstance that
while he was speaking to me he twice broke off
with a fallen colour, turned his face towards
the little bell when it did NOT ring, opened the
door of the hut (which was kept shut to exclude
the unhealthy damp), and looked out towards
the red light near the mouth of the tunnel. On
both of those occasions, he came back to the fire
with the inexplicable air upon him which I had
remarked, without being able to define, when we
were so far asunder.

Said I when I rose to leave him: " You
almost make me think that I have met with a
contented man."

(I am afraid I must acknowledge that I said it
to lead him on.)

"I believe I used to be so," he rejoined, in
the low voice in which he had first spoken;
"but I am troubled, sir, I am troubled."

He would have recalled the words if he could.
He had said them, however, and I took them up
quickly.

With what? What is your trouble?"

"It is very difficult to impart, sir. It is very,
very, difficult to speak of. If ever you make me
another visit, I will try to tell you."

"But I expressly intend to make you another
visit. Say, when shall it be?"

"I go off early in the morning, and I shall be
on again at ten to-morrow night, sir."

"I will come at eleven."

He thanked me, and went out at the door
with me. "I'll show my white light, sir," he
said, in his peculiar low voice, "till you have
found the way up. When you have found it,
don't call out! And when you are at the top,
don't call out!"

His manner seemed to make the place strike
colder to me, but I said no more than "Very
well."

"And when you come down to-morrow night,
don't call out! Let me ask you a parting question.
What made you cry  'Halloa! Below
there!' to-night.?"

"Heaven knows," said I. "I cried something
to that effect—-"

Not to that effect, sir. Those were the
very words. I know them well.''

"Admit those were the very words. |
them, no doubt, because I saw you below."

"For no other reason?"

" What other reason could I possibly have!"

"You had no feeling that they were conveyed
to you in any supernatural way?"

"No."

He wished me good night, and held up his
light. I walked by the side of the down Line of
rails (with a very disagreeable sensation of a
train coming behind me), until I found the path.
It was easier to mount than to descend, and I
got back to my inn without any adventure.

Punctual to my appointment, I placed my
foot on the first notch of the zig-zag next night,
as the distant clocks were striking eleven. He
was waiting for me at the bottom, with his
white light on. "I have not called out," I
said, when we came close together; " may I
speak now?" "By all means, sir." "Good
night then, and here's my hand." " Good night ,
sir, and here's mine." ' With that, we walked
side by side to his box, entered it, closed the
door, and sat down by the fire.

"I have made up my mind, sir," he began,
bending forward as soon as we were seated,
and speaking in a tone but a little above
a whisper, " that, you shall not have to ask me
twice what troubles me. I took you for some
one else yesterday evening. That troubles me."

"That mistake?"

"No. That some one else."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

"Like me?"

"I don't know. I never saw the face. The
left arm is across the face, and the right arm
is waved. Violently waved. This way."

I followed his action with my eyes, and it was
the action of an arm gesticulating with the utmost
passion and vehemence: " For God's sake clear
the way!"

"One moonlight night," said the man, "I
was sitting here, when I heard a voice cry
' Halloa! Below there!' I started up, looked
from that door, and saw this Some one else
standing by the red light near the tunnel waving
as I just now showed you. The voice seemed
hoarse with shouting, and it cried, ' Look out!
Look out!' And then again 'Halloa! Below
there! Look out!' I caught up my lamp,
turned it on red, and ran towards the figure,
calling,' What's wrong? What has happened?
Where?' It stood just outside the blackness
of the tunnel. I advanced so close upon it
that I wondered at its keeping the sleeve across
its eyes. I ran right up at it, and had my hand
lied out to pull the sleeve away, when it
was gone."

"Into the tunnel,'' said I.

"No. I ran on into the tunnel, five hundred