Ten minutes later the eldest Miss Evans, hearing heavy footsteps, went to the door. She saw what she took to be the spirit of Charles Seabohn, staggering under the weight of the lifeless body of Mivanway, and the sight not unnaturally alarmed her. Charles’s suggestion of brandy, however, sounded human, and the urgent need of attending to Mivanway kept her mind from dwelling upon problems tending towards insanity.
Charles carried Mivanway to her room, and laid her upon the bed.
“I’ll leave her with you,” he whispered to the eldest Miss Evans. “It will be better for her not to see me until she is quite recovered. She has had a shock.”
Charles waited in the dark parlour for what seemed to him an exceedingly long time. But at last the eldest Miss Evans returned.
“She’s all right now,” were the welcome words he heard.
“I’ll go and see her,” he said.
“But she’s in bed,” exclaimed the scandalised Miss Evans.
And then as Charles only laughed, “Oh, ah—yes, I suppose—of course,” she added.
And the eldest Miss Evans, left alone, sat down and wrestled with the conviction that she was dreaming.