"Wicked Hezekiah! Coming into the house is bad enough in all the circumstances. Entering your sister's room is a grievous sin."
"If, Mr. Ames, you are still seeking an explanation of that chimney's behavior"—
It was Miss Octavia, now just outside the door.
"Don't leave that trunk, Hezekiah," I whispered. "I'll do the best I can."
Miss Octavia met me smilingly as I faced her in the hall. She had switched on the lights, and my candle burned yellowly in the white electric glow.
Miss Octavia held something in her hand. It required no second glance to tell me that she had found Hezekiah's slipper.
"Mr. Ames," she began, "as you have absented yourself from the library all evening, I assume that you have been busy studying my chimneys and seeking for the ghost of that British soldier who was so wantonly slain upon the site of this house."
"I am glad to say that not only is your surmise correct, Miss Hollister, but that I have made great progress in both directions."
"Do you mean to say that you have really found traces of the ghost?"
"Not only that, Miss Hollister, but I have met the ghost face to face,—even more, I have had speech with him!"