“And what was she carrying?” inquired Marion, seeming unmoved by the tragic occurrence.
Phœbe knew; they were two canvas bags of gold; but she said nothing.
“See here,” cried Toby abruptly, “it’s possible you crazy females have not spoiled the game, after all. Make tracks—will you, girls?—get away, out of sight; run home, so she won’t see you when she comes to.”
“But—I don’t understand,” began Janet, timidly.
“You’re not supposed to,” retorted Toby, more gruffly than he had ever spoken to her before.
“Toby is right, girls—I know he is right. Come—please come!” pleaded Phœbe, anxiously.
Thoroughly bewildered, Janet and Marion suffered her to lead them away, and when they had passed the turnstile and were out of sight Toby retreated and hid behind a gravestone.
Elaine did not recover at once, for her terror had been great and her faint was proportionately deep and lasting. But finally, when Toby was about to steal out again and see if she were dead, the old woman moved uneasily and moaned. A little later she sat up, placing her hands to her head. Then she seemed to remember the cause of her fright, for she cast fearful glances around her.
Apparently reassured, she presently tried to rise, and after several attempts regained her feet. The bags of gold still lay where she had dropped them and after another suspicious look around the graveyard she stooped and picked them up.
For several moments the woman stood motionless in that silent city of the dead, pondering on the forms she had seen and trying to decide whether her imagination had played her a trick, or she had really beheld the spirits of those gone before. The fact that she had not been robbed led her to dismiss any idea that the forms were mortal. Whatever the explanation might be, she reflected that she was now alone and had a purpose to accomplish.