"How you startled me!" Henson said, irritably. "Why don't you go to bed?"

Enid, looking over the balustrade from the landing, wondered so also, but
she kept herself prudently hidden. The first words that she heard drove
all the blood from her heart.

"I cannot," the feeble, moaning voice said. "The house is full of ghosts;
they haunt and follow me everywhere. And Chris is dead, and I have seen
her spirit."

"So I'm told," Henson said, with brutal callousness. "What was the
ghost like?"

"Like Chris. All pale and white, with a frightened look on her face. And
she was all dressed in white, too, with a cloak about her shoulders. And
just when I was going to speak to her she turned and disappeared into
Enid's bedroom. And there are other ghosts--"

"One at a time, please," Henson said, grimly. "So Christiana's ghost
passed into her sister's bedroom. You come and sit quietly in the library
whilst I investigate matters."

Margaret Henson complied in her dull, mechanical way, and Enid flew like
a flash of light to her room. Another girl was there--a girl exceedingly
like her, but looking wonderfully pale and drawn.

"That fiend suspects," Enid said. "How unfortunate it was that you
should meet aunt like that. Chris, you must go back again. Fly to your
own room and compose yourself. Only let him see you lying white and still