Adam Ward laughed--laughed until he was forced to hold his sides and
the tears of his ungodly mirth rolled down his cheeks.

But such laughter is a fearful thing to see. White and trembling with
the shame and the horror of it, Helen crouched in her hiding place, not
daring even to move. She felt, as never before, the presence of that
spirit which possessed her father and haunted her home. It was as if
the hidden thing of which she had forced herself to speak to the
Interpreter were suddenly about to materialize before her eyes. She
wanted to scream--to cry aloud her fear--to shriek her protest--but
sheer terror held her motionless and dumb.

The spell was broken by Mrs. Ward who, from somewhere in the grounds,
was calling, "Adam! Oh-h, Adam!"

The man heard, and Helen saw him controlling his laughter, and looking
cautiously about.

Again the call came, and there was an anxious note in the voice.
"Adam--father--Oh-h, father, where are you?"

With a cruel grin still twisting his gray face, Adam slunk behind a
clump of bushes.

Helen Ward crept from her hiding place and, keeping the little arbor
between herself and her father, stole away through the grounds. When
she was beyond his hearing, she almost ran, as if to escape from a spot
accursed.