"A creature," he said, slowly, "that has a body, but no soul to it. All
body, with brain enough for its affairs, it has _no_ soul. Such will
never wander about after they are dead! there will be nothing to wander!
Good-night, ladies! Were I to tell you the history of a woman whose
acquaintance I made some years ago at Baden, you would understand the
sort Good-night!"

There was silence for a moment or two. Had his sister not been present,
something other than complimentary to Sefton might have crept about the
drawing-room--to judge from the expression of two or three faces. Walter
felt the man worth knowing, but felt also something about him that
repelled him.




CHAPTER XX.


THE SOULLESS.

In his room, Walter threw himself in a chair, and sat without thinking,
for the mental presence of Lufa was hardly thought Gradually Sefton's
story revived, and for a time displaced the image of Lufa. It was the
first immediately authenticated ghost-narration he had ever heard. His
fancy alone had hitherto been attracted by such tales; but this brought
him close to things of import as profound as marvelous. He began to
wonder how he was likely to carry himself in such an interview. Courage
such as Mr. Sefton's he dared not claim--any more than hope for the
distinction of ever putting his hand through a ghost! To be sure, the