A volley of questions from the master of the house, and a return of courage to the mistress. But Miss Arthur only gathered herself together, took in a fresh supply of breath, and embarked in another series of howls.
Nothing was amiss in the room; it could not have been a burglar. The night lamp was burning dimly behind its heavy shade; on the table were the fragments of Miss Arthur's lunch; and Mr. and Mrs. Arthur had found easy access through the closed, but unbolted door.
After a time, a long time, during which Cora and Céline administered sal volatile and other restoratives, Mr. Arthur douched her with oaths and ice water, and the servants whispered in a group, the maiden found voice.
It was a very feeble voice, and it conveyed to her audience the astounding intelligence that she had seen a ghost—Madeline Payne's ghost.
Upon hearing her story, John Arthur seemed at first a little startled. But Cora only laughed, and Céline, glancing significantly at the lunch table, said, with a slight smile:
"Mademoiselle has nerves, and she may have lunched heartily before retiring."
John Arthur strode across the room and viewed the débris of luncheon. "Humph!" he grunted. "Oysters and salads, potted meat and pastry; strong coffee and lemon syllabub with brandy. Good Lord, I don't know what should have kept the contents of an entire cemetery from sweeping down upon your slumbers, you female gourmand. Ghosts indeed!"
And he stamped out of the room in high dudgeon. His tirade was wholly lost upon his sister, however, for that lady was whimpering comfortably and putting all her feeble energy into the effort.
Cora glanced up as the door banged after her lord and master, and ordered the servants back to bed. Then she turned toward Céline, saying:
"That door was certainly not locked when we came to it, for I was here even sooner than Mr. Arthur."