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The next day, he had two tasks. He must examine the picture carefully with a witness, and he must try to identify the house. He asked his neighbour Nisbet to have breakfast with him.

After breakfast and conversation, the moment arrived. With great excitement, Williams went and got the picture from the drawer. He gave it to Nisbet.

"Now," he said, "Nisbet, I want you to tell me exactly what you see in that picture. Describe it in detail. I'll tell you why afterwards."

"Well," said Nisbet, "I have here a view of a country-house—English, I think—by moonlight."

"Moonlight? You're sure?"
"Certainly. The moon is getting smaller, and there are clouds."
"All right. Go on."
"Well, the house has three rows of windows. In front, there's a porch and a lawn."
"But what about figures?" said Williams with interest.
"There aren't any," said Nisbet.
"What! No figure on the grass?"
"Not a thing. You can be sure of that. But there is one other thing."
"What?"
"One of the windows on the ground-floor—left of the door—is open."

"Is it really? Good heavens! He must have got in," said Williams with great excitement. He hurried to look at the picture himself.

It was true. There was no figure, and the window was open. After a moment of surprise, Williams went to his desk and wrote for a short time. Then he brought two papers to Nisbet. He asked him to sign one—it was his own description of the picture—and then to read the other, which was Williams's statement from the night before.

"What can it all mean?" said Nisbet.

"That's the question," said Williams. "Well, I must do three things. I must find out what Garwood saw last night, I must get the picture photographed, and I must identify the place."

"I can photograph it myself," said Nisbet. "But it looks very much as if we are watching a tragedy happen somewhere. The question is, has it happened already, or is it going to happen? You must find the place. I expect you're right: he has got in. And if I'm not mistaken, there will be trouble in one of the rooms upstairs."

"I'll tell you what," said Williams. "I'll take the picture to old Green" (this was a senior member of the college). "He's likely to know it. He has travelled a lot in Essex and Sussex."

"Let me take my photograph first," said Nisbet. "But I think Green is away for the weekend."

"That's true," said Williams. "Well, if you photograph it now, I'll go to get Garwood's statement. You keep an eye on the picture while I'm gone. I'm beginning to think two pounds is not a high price for it now."

He soon returned with Mr. Garwood. Garwood's statement said that the figure, when he saw it, was clear of the edge but had not gone far across the lawn. He remembered a white mark on its back but was not sure it was a cross. A document was drawn up and signed, and then Nisbet photographed the picture.

"Now what will you do?" Nisbet asked. "Are you going to watch it all day?"

"Well, no," said Williams. "I think we are meant to see the whole story. Between last night and this morning, there was time for many things to happen, but the creature only got into the house. It could have finished its business and left. But the open window must mean it is inside now. So I feel calm about leaving it. Also, I have an idea it won't change much in the daytime. We can go out for a walk and come back for tea when it gets dark. I'll leave it on the table and lock the door. Only my servant can get in."

The three agreed this was a good plan. They also agreed to spend the afternoon together so they would not talk about the business to others. Any rumour would bring every ghost-hunter in the university to their door.

We can leave them until five o'clock.

Around that time, the three men were entering Williams's building. They were slightly annoyed to see that his door was unlocked. But then they remembered that on Sundays the servants came for orders earlier. However, a surprise was waiting for them.

The first thing they saw was the picture on the table. The next thing was Williams's servant, seated on a chair opposite, staring at it with clear horror. This was very unusual. The servant, Mr. Filcher, was a man of high standards. It was very unlike him to sit in his master's chair or show interest in his master's pictures.

He started violently when the three men entered and stood up with an effort. He said, "I ask your pardon, sir, for sitting down."

"Not at all, Robert," said Mr. Williams. "I was meaning to ask you what you thought of that picture."

"Well, sir, of course my opinion is not as good as yours, but it is not a picture I would hang where my little girl could see it, sir."

"Wouldn't you, Robert? Why not?"

"No, sir. The poor child once saw a picture in a Bible, not half as bad as this, and we had to sit up with her for several nights afterwards. If she saw this skeleton, or whatever it is, carrying off the poor baby, she would be very upset. But what I should say, it doesn't seem a right picture to leave where someone could be startled by it. Will you be wanting anything this evening, sir? Thank you, sir."

With these words, the good man left. The gentlemen immediatelygathered around the engraving.

There was the house, as before, under the moon and clouds. The window that had been open was now shut. The figure was once more on the lawn, but not crawling. Now it was standing and walking quickly with long steps towards the front of the picture. The moon was behind it, and the black cloth hung down over its face. They could only see a white, dome-like forehead and a few hairs. The head was bent down, and the arms were tightly holding an object which they could see was a child, whether dead or alive they could not say. The legs of the figure were horribly thin.

From five to seven, the three men sat and watched the picture in turns. But it did not change. They agreed it was safe to leave it and that they would return after dinner.

When they came back, the engraving was there, but the figure was gone. The house was quiet in the moonlight. There was nothing to do but spend the evening looking through reference books.

Williams was the lucky one in the end. At 11:30 p.m., he read from a guide to Essex the following lines:

"16½ miles, Anningley. The church is an interesting Norman building, but was much changed in the last century. It contains the tombs of the Francis family. Their mansion, Anningley Hall, a solid Queen Anne house, stands just beyond the churchyard. The family is now extinct. The last heir disappeared mysteriously as a baby in the year 1802. The father, Mr. Arthur Francis, was locally known as a talented amateur engraver in mezzotint. After his son's disappearance, he lived in complete retirement at the Hall. He was found dead in his studio on the third anniversary of the disaster, having just completed an engraving of the house. Copies of this engraving are very rare."

This was clearly important. When Mr. Green returned, he immediately identified the house as Anningley Hall.

"Is there any explanation of the figure, Green?" Williams asked.

"I don't know for sure, Williams. What people said when I first knew the area was this: old Francis was very strict with poachers. Whenever he could, he had any man he suspected of poaching thrown off his land. Over time, he got rid of them all except one. This last man was from a very old family that had once been lords of the area. This made him bitter. They said Francis could never catch him breaking the law until one night, when his game-keepers found him poaching in a wood at the edge of the estate. There was a fight, and this man, Gawdy, was unlucky enough to shoot a keeper. Well, that was what Francis wanted. Gawdy was quickly tried and hanged. He was buried on the north side of the church—the side used for those who were hanged. The story was that a friend of Gawdy's must have planned to take Francis's boy to end his family line, too. But, you know, looking at this now, I would say it looks more as if old Gawdy himself managed to do it. It's a horrible thought! Have some whisky, Williams!"

The facts were told by Williams to Dennistoun, and by him to a group of people, which included me. I have only to add that the picture is now in the Ashleian Museum. Experts have checked it to see if any special ink was used, but found nothing. Mr. Britnell knew nothing about it except that it was uncommon. And though it has been watched carefully, it has never been known to change again.