The Lonely Bride by Fred M. White

It was certainly an amazingly extraordinary thing. By this time the old butler had collected his scattered wits and was doing his best to give a proper and coherent account of what had happened. He had been walking along the corridor, when he had suddenly came upon a figure crouching by the side of an old oak chest in a dark corner. Naturally, he had at first taken the intruder for a burglar, but before he could give the alarm the figure had risen, and, laying a hand upon his lips as if to impose silence, had walked directly into Max Graham's bedroom. It was at this point that Watson had decided that the intruder was his young master. He was too hopelessly overcome and bewildered to give an instant alarm; on his own confession, he had stood in the corridor for the best part of a minute before he had been able to move. Then he had made his way down the stairs and given the alarm. This, however, had been done too late, seeing that the intruder had already vanished as mysteriously as he had arrived.

-"You have not been drinking, Watson?" the general asked severely. "You are quite sure of that?"