Several of the women looked at one another significantly, and at last the cook said:
“Why, James, don’t you know it was all a bit of a joke?”
“Joke!” he repeated, and his eye travelled swiftly round the circle, in speechless quest of Fanny. “Where’s Fanny?” he asked abruptly.
“You’ve just seen her; the ghost was Fanny herself. We dressed her up, and floured her hair—and——”
“And,” he added in a loud, hoarse voice, “I believe—I’ve done for her! I—I hit her a terrible blow! Fanny! Fanny!” he shouted, and he raced up the stairs, followed by all the inmates of the Place.
They crowded through the swing-door and streamed along the passage into the middle room. There on the floor lay a little dressed-up figure with a horrible wound in her head—a knife clutched in her grasp—stone dead!
Nor was this the worst. When Hegan realised that he had unintentionally killed his pretty, mocking sweetheart, he kissed her, rose from beside her, and, before anyone had guessed his intention, sprang on the sill, hurled himself out of the window, and, with a crash among branches, fell heavily on the lawn with a broken neck.
Sir Eldred and Lady Millard, hastily summoned from Cowes, were horrified to find on their return home that two of their household lay awaiting an inquest in the old unused laundry—their fate the result of a practical joke—and for many months Lady Millard deserted the Place, and made her home in Continental hotels.
At Bramleigh the middle room in the oak corridor has long been closed; but the double tragedy has left its mark. After dusk, the maids go about in couples; a creaking board throws them into a paroxysm of terror, and they snatch at one another, and whisper, “She’s somewhere about!” for Bramleigh enjoys the unique reputation of being haunted by the ghost—of a ghost!