hoarding　upon　the　high　road；　in　which　a　small　doorway　has　been　cut
  for　the　convenience　of　some　of　the　workmen　who　live　in　that
  direction。　　The　doorway　was　left　unfastened　through　a
  misunderstanding　between　two　gangers；　and　through　it　he　made　his
  way　。　。　。　。　。
  My　mind　is　darkened　with　questions　and　riddles。
  It　would　seem　he　walked　all　the　way　from　the　House　that
  nighthe　has　frequently　walked　home　during　the　past　Sessionand
  so　it　is　I　figure　his　dark　form　coming　along　the　late　and　empty
  streets；　wrapped　up；　intent。　　And　then　did　the　pale　electric　lights
  near　the　station　cheat　the　rough　planking　into　a　semblance　of
  white？　　Did　that　fatal　unfastened　door　awaken　some　memory？
  Was　there；　after　all；　ever　any　green　door　in　the　wall　at　all？
  I　do　not　know。　　I　have　told　his　story　as　he　told　it　to　me。
  There　are　times　when　I　believe　that　Wallace　was　no　more　than　the
  victim　of　the　coincidence　between　a　rare　but　not　unprecedented　type
  of　hallucination　and　a　careless　trap；　but　that　indeed　is　not　my
  profoundest　belief。　　You　may　think　me　superstitious　if　you　will；
  and　foolish；　but；　indeed；　I　am　more　than　half　convinced　that　he　had
  in　truth；　an　abnormal　gift；　and　a　sense；　somethingI　know　not
  whatthat　in　the　guise　of　wall　and　door　offered　him　an　outlet；　a
  secret　and　peculiar　passage　of　escape　into　another　and　altogether
  more　beautiful　world。　　At　any　rate；　you　will　say；　it　betrayed　him
  in　the　end。　　But　did　it　betray　him？　　There　you　touch　the　inmost
  mystery　of　these　dreamers；　these　men　of　vision　and　the　imagination。
  We　see　our　world　fair　and　common；　the　hoarding　and　the　pit。　　By　our
  daylight　standard　he　walked　out　of　security　into　darkness；　danger
  and　death。　　But　did　he　see　like　that？