"It was Mary Lee who dressed me, madam," said Amabel.
"I must find something else for her to do," was the reply. "A chit like you does not need two women, surely. This is a pretty room—much prettier than mine. I think I must change with you. What is next you?"
"The haunted rooms, madam," I answered, with some satisfaction. "There is said to be a ghost in them, and it is there the howl of the wolf is heard when any great misfortune is about to befall the family."
"Nonsense!" said Lady Leighton, turning pale through all her rouge. "What stuff is that?"
At that very moment, before the words were fairly out of her mouth, a long-drawn and most doleful howl, ending with a frightful sound between a scream and a yell, was heard, as it seemed, close by.
Lady Leighton turned still paler, and grasped a chair as if to keep herself from falling. "In Heaven's name, what was that?" said she.
"It sounded like a howl," said Amabel, which it certainly did.
As for me I was ready to choke, but I bestirred myself to hand Lady Leighton a smelling-bottle and to fan her, for she looked ready to faint away. She revived presently, and evidently made a great effort to recover her self-possession. I thought she was even a little mollified toward me, for she told me at parting that she had no ill will toward me so long as I behaved myself properly.
"What could it have been?" said Amabel, turning to me after her ladyship had left the room.
"You goose—begging pardon for calling my mistress a goose," said I. "Don't you know the voice of Sultan, the young bloodhound? I can make him warble like that any time with my little ivory whistle."