one!

Sharply there came to her mind the question: was she the only one
abroad in this black little world? What of the other woman? The
one who was being hunted? Where was she? And what of the ghost at
HER heels?

The car bounded over a railroad crossing. She recalled the directions
given by the man at the station and hastily applied the brake. There
was another and more dangerous crossing a hundred yards ahead. She
had been warned particularly to take it carefully, as there was a
sharp curve in the road beyond.

Suddenly she jammed down the emergency brake, a startled exclamation
falling from her lips. Not twenty feet ahead, in the middle of
the road and directly in line with the light of the lamps, stood
a black, motionless figure--the figure of a woman whose head was
lowered and whose arms hung limply at her sides.

The woman in the car bent forward over the wheel, staring hard. Many
seconds passed. At last the forlorn object in the roadway lifted
her face and looked vacantly into the glare of the lamps. Her eyes
were wide-open, her face a ghastly white.

"God in heaven!" struggled from the stiffening lips of Sara Wrandall.
Her fingers tightened on the wheel.

She knew. This was the woman!

The long brown ulster; the limp, fluttering veil! "A woman about