"You are sure it was the door into the library?" he said at last.
"Quite sure," I replied; "and, oh, Philip," I went on, "it has just occurred to me that father felt a chill there the other evening."
For till that moment the little incident in question had escaped my memory.
"Do you remember which of the "portières" hung in front of the door at Finster?" said Philip.
I shook my head.
"Dormy would," I said, "he used to examine the pictures in the tapestry with great interest. I should not know one from the other. There is an old castle in the distance in each, and a lot of trees, and something meant for a lake."
But in his turn Philip shook his head.
"No," he said, "I won't speak to Dormy about it if I can possibly help it. Leave it to me, Leila, and try to put it out of your own mind as much as you possibly can, and don't be surprised at anything you may notice in the next few days. I will tell you, first of any one, whenever I have anything to tell."
That was all I could get out of him. So I took his advice.
Luckily, as it turned out, Mr. Miles, the only outsider, so to say (except the unfortunate keeper), who had witnessed the ghostly drama, was one of the shooting party expected that day. And him Philip at once determined to consult about this new and utterly unexpected manifestation.