in my mind, nor even to say exactly how he was dressed. Yet now some
instinct tells me that it is this very man whom you saw last night. It
is not for us to attempt to pierce the mystery which veils from our eyes
the secrets of an after-death existence; but I can scarcely suppose that
a spirit entirely at rest would feel so deeply the power of a certain
melody as to be called back by it to his old haunts like a dog by his
master's whistle. It is more probable that there is some evil history
connected with the matter, and this, I think, we ought to consider if it
be possible to unravel."

My brother assenting, he continued, "When this man left you, Johnnie,
did he walk to the door?"

"No; he made for the side wall, and when he reached the end of the
bookcase I lost sight of him."

Mr. Gaskell went to the bookcase and looked for a moment at the titles
of the books, as though expecting to see something in them to assist
his inquiries; but finding apparently no clue, he said--

"This is the last time we shall meet for three months or more; let us
play the _Gagliarda_ and see if there be any response."

My brother at first would not hear of this, showing a lively dread of
challenging any reappearance of the figure he had seen: indeed he felt
that such an event would probably fling him into a state of serious
physical disorder. Mr. Gaskell, however, continued to press him,
assuring him that the fact of his now being no longer alone should
largely allay any fear on his part, and urging that this would be the
last opportunity they would have of playing together for some months.