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Making use of time.

…that I awoke. Everything was very quiet and the room pitch dark. I was turning over to try sleeping on my other side, when I suddenly saw a light, and, on looking up, perceived, to my surprise and terror, the luminous face of a diabolical old hag pressed against the window, which was at least thirty feet from the ground. Having slept in the house for several months without seeing anything abnormal, I had hitherto attributed the rumour that it was haunted to the superstition of the peasantry, in the first place, and, in the second place, to their insatiable love of foolish gossip. Now, however, as I gazed at the hideous countenance, and rubbed my eyes to make sure I was not dreaming, I felt that the gossip I had scorned was only too well founded, and I determined that nothing should induce me to sleep in that room…

…a level with my face, and, as I peered through it, a tall man in evening dress entered the room. ‘Mr. Montague, I suppose,’ I murmured to myself, mentioning the name of the banker. ‘Why, he’s actually wearing red socks, and has a coloured handkerchief and a sixpenny ready-made tie,” You see, sir, I notice every detail in a gentleman’s dress; and, as you doubtless know, nothing gives a show away so much as loud-coloured handkerchiefs and ready-made ties; no one in tip-top society wears such things.”Now I didn’t know much about bankers, as most of the people at whose houses I visited were real gentry, but I never should have believed that even a moderately well-to-do business man would have dressed like that. I was gazing at him in astonishment, when he suddenly approached the window, and, seeing me, threw up the sash. ‘Are you the policeman,’ he said,…