That night the third and last incident in my story happened. We McLeod and I slept in a dormitory at right angles to the main building. Sampson slept in the main building on the first floor. There was a very bright full moon. At an hour which I cant tell exactly, but some time between one and two, I was woken up by somebody shaking me. It was McLeod; and a nice state of mind he seemed to be in. Come, he said,come! theres a burglar getting in through Sampsons window. As soon as I could speak, I said, Well, why not call out and wake everybody up? No, no, he said, Im not sure who it is: dont make a row: come and look. Naturally I came and looked, and naturally there was no one there. I was cross enough, and should have called McLeod plenty of names: only I couldnt tell why it seemed to me that there was something wrong something that made me very glad I wasnt alone to face it. We were still at the window looking out, and as soon as I could, I asked him what he had heard or seen. I didnt hear anything at all, he said, but about five minutes before I woke you, I found myself looking out of this window here, and there was a man sitting or kneeling on Sampsons window-sill, and looking in, and I thought he was beckoning. What sort of man? McLeod wriggled. I dont know, he said, but I can tell you one thing he was beastly thin: and he looked as if he was wet all over: and, he said, looking round and whispering as if he hardly liked to hear himself, Im not at all sure that he was alive. We went on talking in whispers some time longer, and eventually crept back to bed. No one else in the room woke or stirred the whole time. I believe we did sleep a bit afterwards, but we were very cheap next day. And next day Mr Sampson was gone: not to be found: and I believe no trace of him has ever come to light since. In thinking it over, one of the oddest things about it all has seemed to me to be the fact that neither McLeod nor I ever mentioned what we had seen to any third person whatever. Of course no questions were asked on the subject, and if they had been, I am inclined to believe that we could not have made any answer: we seemed unable to speak about it. That is my story, said the narrator. The only approach to a ghost story connected with a school that I know, but still, I think, an approach to such a thing.