CHAPTER IX.
PETER'S STORY.
"We spur to a land of no name, outracing the storm wind;
We leap to the infinite dark, like the sparks from the anvil.
Thou leadest, O God: all's well with Thy troopers that follow."
Louise Imogen Guiney.
Dazzled by the sudden blaze of light, the girls stood as if petrified. All they could see at first was a tall figure dressed in what seemed to be a long black gown, and wearing a cap on its head. It appeared to be surrounded by a cloud of vapour which gave off a sickly odour. As the mist cleared away, which it did in a few seconds, and as Marjory's eyes became accustomed to the light, she saw, to her surprise and terror, that the black figure was no other than her uncle, Dr. Hunter. Was he indeed mad, as Mary Ann had told her? What could he be doing here in the dead of night?
On a table in front of him lay piles of bones, some large, some small. There were skulls too, of different shapes and sizes, and in one corner of the room was a skeleton on a stand. What did it all mean?
Two queer little figures they looked