I was trying to compose myself to sleep again, persuading myself that I had been dreaming, when again--yes most distinctly--there _was_ a sound.

A sort of shuffling, scraping noise, which seemed to come from the direction of the passage leading from the tapestry room to the garden.

Fear made me selfish.

I pushed Mary, then shook her gently, then more vigorously.
"'Mary,' I whispered.

'Oh, Mary, _do_ wake up.