"Oh, not to-night! We want to go to the theatre. Wait till to-morrow."
Kate was about to join in this protest when Morton drew her into his study and shut the door. "Don't stop them!" he said, almost fiercely. "They must go."
"Do you mean to escape Clarke?"
"Yes, Clarke, or rather his ghost."
"His ghost! What do you mean?" she asked, with startled eyes.
"He has killed himself—hush, now! they must not know it, and they must flee. Don't you see that this may undo all my plans for the girl's redemption and may enslave her more deeply than ever? The papers will be full of Clarke to-morrow morning. Pratt's wealth, my connection, with an institution, insures a tremendous scare-head. The mother will be conscious-wrung, and the whole weight of the infernal tragedy will crush down on Viola. The only possible respite for her is to cross the border into Canada, outrun the newsmongers, and trust in time to heal her mental derangements."
Kate's eyes expanded with the same fear that filled Lambert. "You don't suppose he will be able to haunt her? Was that what happened at the table?"
"No, not in the sense you mean. He is dead, and I have no fear of his ghost, but the memory of him will torture her soul; and if she believes that he is able to come to her, the belief will be almost as tragic as the fact."
"Morton, it is a test!" she exclaimed, with breathless solemnity. "If there is any truth in spiritualism, he will manifest himself to her and you cannot prevent it."
"I know it is a test and I welcome it! I stake all that I am on the issue. She was at her merriest when he was dying. She has no hint of his deed at this moment, and with all her clairvoyance I am perfectly certain she will not be able to read what is in our minds if you can restrain your tongue. If you can't do that, I beg of you to stay in your room." He was harsh and curt in his tone; and she shrank from him. "Her mental health, her sanity, may be in peril."