"Oui-gia, think of that!" said a voice from somewhere in the hall.

Philip heard it, and he frowned, for he recognised Dormy Jamais's voice.
Where it came from he knew not, nor did any one; for the daft one was
snugly bestowed above a middle doorway in what was half balcony, half
cornice.

When Philip had taken his place beside the Comtesse Chantavoine, came the
formal opening of the Cour d'Heritage.

The Comtesse's eyes fixed themselves upon Philip. There was that in his
manner which puzzled and evaded her clear intuition. Some strange
circumstance must have delayed him, for she saw that his flag-lieutenant
was disturbed, and this she felt sure was not due to delay alone. She
was barely conscious that the Bailly had been addressing Philip, until he
had stopped and Philip had risen to reply.

He had scarcely begun speaking when the doors were suddenly thrown open
again, and a woman came forward quickly. The instant she entered Philip
saw her, and stopped speaking. Every one turned.

It was Guida. In the silence, looking neither to right nor left, she
advanced almost to where the Greffier sat, and dropping on her knee and
looking up to the Bailly and the jurats, stretched out her hands and
cried:

"Haro, haro! A l'aide, mon Prince, on me fait tort!"

If one rose from the dead suddenly to command them to an awed obedience,
Jerseymen could not be more at the mercy of the apparition than at the