122 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



brightly outside. For hours I tossed about un- 

 easily, and whenever I tried to doze I sprang up 

 again with the idea that there was a woman moving 

 about the room. Presently the rays of the moon 

 penetrated to the room (there being no blinds) and 

 fell upon the bed. What now attracted my atten- 

 tion was the peculiar pattern on the counterpane — 

 there were many dark, irregular patches all over it, 

 but the principal design in the centre seemed 

 exactly to fit the outline of my own figure as I lay 

 in bed. The hours crept slowly on, and at last, 

 being unable to sleep, and still half frozen, I arose 

 and got out my reindeer bag, which I placed on the 

 top of the bed and crept in. Even then sleep 

 refused to come, and the mysterious sounds of some 

 one moving close to the bed continued. I often 

 tried closing my eyes, and then, after gauging the 

 direction of what seemed like rustling skirts, I 

 opened them suddenly. There was nothing there. 



So the night passed, and at about six I arose, 

 resolved to get out of that horrible room. No one 

 was stirring, so I started to get my kit in order and 

 remove it downstairs. The morning sun streamed 

 in, and as I lifted the reindeer bag from the bed 

 I saw plainly the central design on the counterpane. 

 It was the perfect outline of a woman in black, whilst 

 the stains around were blood red. 



I can only say that I fled downstairs three steps 

 at a time, and out into the sunlight. An hour later 

 Steve Bernard, my Indian, fetched my kit from the 

 room, and after a hurried breakfast, at which Ryan 

 was as jolly and cheery as ever, we started on our 

 journey up the river. 



Two nights afterwards^ ^jiilst sitting over the 



