had been in the habit of looking in the  glass, and
all the while that very wench would have her
looking-glass, of some kind or another, hid away
among her clothes up-stairs. Sooner or later, she
would bring it out too, and leave it about somewhere
or other (just like the cook), where it was
as likely as not that master might see it. And
then—- for girls like that have no consciences,
sir—- when I had caught one of 'em at it, she'd
turn round as bold as brass, 'And how am I
to know whether my 'air's parted straight? '
she'd say, just as if it hadn't been considered
in her wages that that was the very thing which
she never was to know while she lived in our
house. A vain lot, sir, and the ugly ones
always the vainest. There was no end to their
dodges. They'd have looking-glasses in the interiors
of their workbox-lids, where it was next
to impossible that I could find 'em, or inside
the covers of hymn-books, or cookery-books, or
in their caddies. I recollect one girl, a sly one she
was, and marked with the small-pox terrible,
who was always reading her prayer-book at odd
times. Sometimes I used to think what a
religious mind she'd got, and at other times
(depending on the mood I was in) I would conclude
that it was the marriage-service she was
studying; but one day, when I got behind her
to satisfy my doubts—- lo and behold! it was
the old story: a bit of glass, without a frame,
fastened into the kiver with the outside
edges of the sheets of postage-stamps. Dodges!
Why they'd keep their looking-glasses in the
scullery or the coal-cellar, or leave them
in charge of the servants next door, or with
the milk-woman round the corner; but have
'em they would. " And I don't mind confessing,
sir," said the old man, bringing his long speech
to an end, " that it was an inconveniency not to
have so much as a scrap to shave before. I
used to go to the barber's at first, but I soon
gave that up, and took to wearing my beard as
my master did; likewise to keeping my hair"—-
Mr. Masey touched his head as he spoke—- "so
short, that it didn't require any parting, before
or behind."

I sat for some time lost in amazement, and
staring at my companion. My curiosity was
powerfully stimulated, and the desire to learn
more was very strong within me.

"Had your master any personal defect," I
inquired, " which might have made it distressing
to him to see his own image reflected?"

"By no means, sir," said the old man. " He
was as handsome a gentleman as you would
wish to see: a little delicate-looking and careworn,
perhaps, with a very pale face; but as
free from any deformity as you or I, sir. No,
sir, no; it was nothing of that."

Then what was it? What is it?" I asked,
desperately. "Is there no one who is, or has
been, in your master's confidence?"

Yes, sir," said the old fellow, with his eyes
turning to that window opposite. " There is
one person who knows all my master's secrets,
and this secret among the rest."

"And who is that;"'

The old man turned round and looked al me
fixedly. "The doctor here," he said. ''Dr.
Garden. My master's very old friend.''

"I should like to speak with this gentleman,"
I said, involuntarily.

"He  is with my master now," answered
Masey. "He will be coming out presently,
and I think I may say he will answer any question
you may like to put to him." As the old
man spoke, the door of the house opened,
and a middle-aged gentleman, who was tall
and thin, but who lost something of his
height, by a habit of stooping, appeared on
the step. Old Masey left me in a moment.
He muttered something about taking the
doctor's directions, and hastened across the
road. The tall gentleman spoke to him for a
minute or two very seriously, probably about
the patient up-stairs, and it then seemed to me
from their gestures that I myself was the subject
of some further conversation between them.
At all events, when old Masey retired into the
house, the doctor came across to where I was
standing, and addressed me with a very agreeable
smile.

"John Masey tells me that you are interested
in the case of my poor friend, sir. I am now
going back to my house, and if you don't mind
the trouble of walking with me, I shall be happy
to enlighten you as far as I am able."

I hastened to make my apologies and express
my acknowledgments, and we set off together.
When we had reached the doctor's house and
were seated in his study, I ventured to inquire
after the health of this poor gentleman.

"I am afraid there is no amendment, nor any
prospect of amendment," said the doctor. " Old
Masey has told you something of his strange
condition, has he not?"

"Yes, he has told me something," I answered,
"and he says you know all about it."

Dr. Garden looked very grave. "I don't
know all about it. I only know what happens
when he comes into the presence of a looking-
glass. But as to the circumstances which have
led to his being haunted in the strangest fashion
that I ever heard of, I know no more of them
than you do."

"Haunted?" I repeated. " And in the
strangest fashion that you ever heard of?"

Dr. Garden smiled at my eagerness, seemed
to be collecting his thoughts, and presently
went on:

"I made the acquaintance of Mr. Oswald
Strange in a curious way. It was on board of
an Italian steamer, bound from Civita Vecchia
to Marseilles. We had been travelling all night.
In the morning I was shaving myself in the
cabin, when suddenly this man came behind me,
glanced for a moment into the small mirror
before which I was standing, and then, without
a word of warning, tore it from the nail,
and dashed it to pieces at my feet. His
face was at first livid—- with passion it seemed
to me rather the passion of fear than of anger—-
but it changed after a moment, and he seemed
ashamed of what he had done. Well," continued