“‘What!’ Ralph retorted; ‘she has no hood, you must be dreaming.’
“As before, the girl passed us and we lost sight of her amongst the trees. The next moment, and we again heard her scream. Then we searched everywhere, but with no result. She was certainly not on the premises, and as there was no avenue of escape save by scaling a ten foot wall, we could only conclude she had melted into fine air, in other words—vanished.
“‘I’ll get to the bottom of this mystery,’ Tom growled between his teeth, ‘if I root up every tree in the garden.’
“‘What you’ve seen so far,’ Ralph observed, ‘is only the prelude. There’s more to come, and I’m not sure if Act II. is not the most exciting. What do you think, Dick?’
“‘Ask Greg,’ I replied. ‘I believe he knows more about it than we do.’
“On arriving indoors, we all three retired to the bedroom we had agreed to share. The night was so exquisite that I sat by the open window. Directly beneath me was the gravel drive, which lay like a broad, white belt encircling the house, and beyond it, on the level sweep of lawn, danced the shadows from the larch and fir trees in the paddock; the only sign of life came from the bats and night birds that wheeled and skimmed in silent flight in and out the bushes. There was very little breeze, sufficient only to make the ivy rustle and the window in the corridor outside give the faintest perceptible jar. I gazed at my companions. Ralph lay on the sofa, sound asleep, a half-serious, half-amused look on his handsome features, while Tom sat in an armchair directly in front of the fire, his head buried in the palms of his hands, as if wrapt in profound thought. A distant church clock boomed one. Greg growled, and Tom, at once springing up, flung the door widely back on its hinges. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Come what may, we’re ready for it.’ As he concluded, there came a tapping.
“Tap, tap, tap; someone in high-heeled shoes was walking over the polished oak boards of the corridor in our direction. To me there was a world of stealth and cautiousness in the sounds, that suggested a host of conflicting motives. As the steps drew nearer, the door suddenly swung to with a loud crash, and before we had time to recover from our astonishment, someone rapped. With a shout of baffled rage, Tom leaped to his feet and tore at the handle. The massive door at once flew open. The corridor was empty—only moonbeams and pictures—nothing more.
“The following day was wet, and we stayed indoors, all the morning and afternoon, reading. As it cleared up a little towards supper-time, Tom proposed going for a short walk. We slipped on our overcoats, and were crossing the big entrance hall to the front door, when Tom suddenly exclaimed, ‘Hang it! I’ve left my pipe upstairs. I say, wait a minute, you fellows, till I get it.’ He started running, and then stopped short, giving vent to a loud exclamation. Ascending the broad staircase in front of us was a form, whose back view exactly resembled that of the golden-haired beauty we had seen in the garden. Where she had sprung from we could not say. We only knew she was there.
“‘By Jove! I’ll see her face this time,’ Tom said. ‘I’ll see it, even if I have to force her to turn round.’ He ran after her, and, mounting the stairs two at a time, stretched out his hand to pluck at her sleeve. She turned, and her face was to us a blank. What Tom saw we never knew. Shouting, ‘Take the damned thing away from me!’ he stepped back and fell; and when we ran forward, we found him lying at the foot of the stairs—dead.”