"Sergeant Zebedee, what do you mean?"
"A gobling, mam—a ghost as vanished itself away into your garden, my lady—we both see same and his honour followed it."
"Into—my garden?" she questioned quick-breathing, her eyes very bright, her slender hand tight-clenched upon her riding-switch.
"Aye mam, your garden. Since when he's been witched and spell-bound, d'ye see."
"How—how?"
"Why, a tramp—tramping in his study all night long and groaning to himself—right mournful, mam."
"Groaning?"
"And likewise a-sighing—very dismal. And this morning I took the liberty of observing him unbeknownst—through the window, d'ye see—me not having had a wink o' sleep either—and when he lifted his head——"
"Well?" she said faintly.
"'Twas like—like death in life, mam."