midnight
Certainly there could be but one way in which Bragdon 's substitution of my name for Milton 's could prove injurious or offensive to me who was his friend , and that was by his putting that copy out before the world to be circulated at random , which avenue to my discomfiture he had effectually closed by leaving the book in my hands , to do with it whatsoever I pleased . Second thoughts showed me that it was only a fear of what the outsider might think that was responsible for my temporary disloyalty to my departed comrade 's memory , and then when I remembered how thoroughly we twain had despised the outsider , I was so ashamed of my aberration that I immediately renewed my allegiance to the late King Tom ; so heartily , in fact , that my emotions wellnigh overcame me , and I found it best to seek distractions in the outer world . I put on my hat and took a long walk along the Riverside Drive , the crisp air of the winter night proving a tonic to my disturbed system . It was after midnight when I returned to my apartment in a tolerably comfortable frame of mind , and yet as I opened the door to my study I was filled with a vague apprehension -- of what I could not determine , but which events soon justified , for as I closed the door behind me , and turned up the light over my table , I became conscious of a pair of eyes fixed upon me . Nervously whirling about in my chair and glancing over towards my fireplace , I was for a moment transfixed with terror , for there , leaning against the mantel and gazing sadly into the fire , was Tom Bragdon himself -- the man whom but a short time before I had seen lowered into his grave . -LSB- Illustration -RSB- `` Tom , '' I cried , springing to my feet and rushing towards him -- `` Tom , what does this mean ? Why have you come back from the spirit world to -- to haunt me ? ''