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. I said 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 someone else yesterday
evening. That troubles me.'
'That mistake?'
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