crushed up into a ball to her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed,
like one who walks in a trance.

She stood like that for an instant surveying the group--Lady Margaret, a
silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace,
who in his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his
side scrutinizing her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.

"My dear Mary "--it was Lady Margaret's smooth and pleasant voice which
broke the silence--"whatever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost!"

The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log,
crashing from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the
darkening room. It seemed to break the spell.

"Hartley!"

The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret,
sprang to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.

"Miss Mary," he said, "you seem frightened, what ..."

His voice was very soothing.

Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the
staircase.

"There ... in the library ... he's got the door locked ... there was a
shot ..."