serious, as no reference was ever made before his sister, he led the way
upstairs and showed us personally to our rooms; and it was just as I was
finishing dressing that a knock came at my door and Dr. Silence entered.

He was always what is called a serious man, so that even in moments of
comedy you felt he never lost sight of the profound gravity of life, but
as he came across the room to me I caught the expression of his face
and understood in a flash that he was now in his most grave and earnest
mood. He looked almost troubled. I stopped fumbling with my black tie
and stared.

"It is serious," he said, speaking in a low voice, "more so even than I
imagined. Colonel Wragge's control over his thoughts concealed a great
deal in my psychometrising of the letter. I looked in to warn you to
keep yourself well in hand--generally speaking."

"Haunted house?" I asked, conscious of a distinct shiver down my back.

But he smiled gravely at the question.

"Haunted House of Life more likely," he replied, and a look came into
his eyes which I had only seen there when a human soul was in the toils
and he was thick in the fight of rescue. He was stirred in the deeps.

"Colonel Wragge--or the sister?" I asked hurriedly, for the gong was
sounding.

"Neither directly," he said from the door. "Something far older,
something very, very remote indeed. This thing has to do with the ages,
unless I am mistaken greatly, the ages on which the mists of memory have