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Again, Ihara began to laugh, but Saito cut him short. "One moment," he said. "Tell me something about that friend of yours at the lodging house—the man you called Kimura. He was the one who first called attention to your somnambulism, wasn't he?"

Ihara nodded. "Yes, he was the first to find out," he replied. "But then, there were also the others—the man who swore that his watch had been stolen, and later the man who spread the alarm that I had been prowling around like a ghost in the cemetery."

"But were these the only occasions which made you think that you were a sleepwalker?" Saito asked, his eyes gleaming through narrow slits. "Weren't there any other incidents?"

"Yes, many," Ihara replied. "Once, another lodger said that he heard footsteps late one night along the corridor of the house, while another accused me of trying to break into his room. . . . But why all these questions? What are you driving at?"

Saito forced a laugh. "Forgive me," he said softly. "I wasn't trying to cross-examine you. I just couldn't convince myself that a man of your high intelligence would be capable of doing such things without being aware of what he was doing. You, of course, call it somnambulism. But I am not quite satisfied. You know it is quite common for people who are deformed, and live aloof from the world, like me, to be very skeptical, so I find all this hard to believe. How can sleepwalkers know what they're doing? They can only believe what they are told by others. Even a doctor knows only what he's told about a case like this. Unless they are told what you are supposed to have done, it is absolutely impossible for them to diagnose a case as somnambulism. Now, maybe I'm just a suspicious fool, a born skeptic apt even to disbelieve that the world is round; but I want to ask you: Are you certain—positively, absolutely certain—that you really did walk in your sleep? If you aren't, don't you think that you were a little too gullible and naive in immediately swallowing what others told you?"

Hearing these words, Ihara began to fidget, while in the pit of his stomach he suddenly felt a sickening sensation. Actually, it was not because of what the other had said—but the way in which he had said it. Staring back at the other's grim countenance, Ihara again seemed to sense that he had seen this ugly mask somewhere before. However, he replied: "I didn't really believe it at first. But gradually, when these fits became more frequent—"

Saito again interrupted. "Please don't argue without facts," he said sternly. "How—how did you know that your fits became more frequent?"

"Because I was told—" Ihara stopped short. Yes, the other was right. He had only had the word of others about what he had done.

Saito immediately took advantage of the other's hesitation. "There—you see?" he gloated. "At no time were you sure! On every occasion it was the word of someone else—of that so-called friend Kimura, for example!"

"Yes, but there were others," Ihara broke in. "There was the clerk who discovered me at the cemetery, the man who missed his watch, the man who saw me break into his room. . . . Besides, what about the many clues I left behind me? Don't forget, every time I had a fit, I left something behind, or took something away. Certainly, things can't move by themselves!"

"That's the most suspicious point of all," insisted Saito. "Even a fool knows that things could easily be moved or planted here and there if there's something to be gained by doing so. And as for your many witnesses, I don't consider any of them to be trustworthy. Take, for example, the man who found you prowling in the graveyard. After constantly hearing that you were a somnambulist, wouldn't he have identified you as the 'ghost' whether you were or not? The same goes for all the others. I tell you, man, that from everything you have told me I am strongly inclined to believe tha* you were the victim of a clever hoax by someone who was using you for his own purposes. I'll even tell