“Eric did,” said Natalie, her eyes wide with awed wonder. “He—that is, his spirit, was here—we heard him sigh—and he turned the lights off and then put the jewels on the table——”
“Oh, Natalie, what nonsense! It couldn’t have been Eric’s spirit that brought that box in here!”
“Then who did?”
Beatrice looked at the girl, and said, “Did you do it, Natalie? Did you know where they were all the time?”
“No, I didn’t do it. Neither did Joyce. We sat right there by Eric’s chair—and Eric was present—we heard him, didn’t we, Joyce?”
“We did, Beatrice, we surely did. I’d know that voice among a thousand. It was the same groan—the same cry for help that he uttered that—that awful night. Can it be that he came back at Natalie’s wish?”
“It’s too incredible,” returned Beatrice. “I can’t believe it. Joyce, it must have been one of the servants, who turned off the light and put the box in here. One who had stolen it.”
“No, Blake saw nobody.”
“Was he in the hall?”
“Yes, just where he was that other night. Oh, it’s too weird. I don’t know what to think!”