She glided swiftly out into the starlight, wrapping her sheet closely about her, and gained a position behind the tomb. Phœbe and Janet followed, spurred on by Marion’s fearless action. One passed to the right and the other to the left.
Singularly enough, the bent figure did not observe their presence until the tomb was nearly reached, when Marion circled around the railing and confronted the mysterious visitant. At the same time Janet and Phœbe advanced and all three slowly raised their white-draped arms above their heads.
“Woo-oo-oo!” wailed Marion.
With a shriek that pierced the night air far and wide the ghost staggered backward and toppled to the ground, lying still as death.
Startled though she was, Phœbe sprang forward and peered into the upturned face.
“Why—it’s Elaine!” she cried aloud.
“Yes,” said a quiet voice beside her. “And you’ve raised the very mischief by this mad prank, Phœbe Daring.”
It was Toby Clark, who gazed down at the still figure and wagged his tow head, mournfully.
“Is she dead, Toby?” asked Janet, in a hushed, frightened tone.
“I think not. Probably, she’s fainted.”