Meanwhile, Sigismund had opened the portals of the Temple of Mystery, and with trembling knees entered it. The figure in the chair did not stir at his approach. He stood at the door irresolute. What should he do or say? ‘Charlotte,’ he whispered. Still she did not move. At that moment his wife entered. ‘Oh, Sigismund!’ cried Mrs Emily, reproachfully, ‘I knew you were keeping something from me, and now I’ve caught you in the very act. Who is this lady, and what is her name? I shall refuse to leave the room until I know it.’ At the sound of her rival’s voice, the woman in the chair rose quickly to her feet and confronted them. Yes! there was Charlotte Cray, precisely similar to what she had appeared in life, only with an uncertainty and vagueness about the lines of the familiar features that made them ghastly. She stood there, looking Mrs Emily full in the face, but only for a moment, for, even as she gazed, the lineaments grew less and less distinct, with the shape of the figure that supported them, until, with a crash, the apparition seemed to fall in and disappear, and the place that had known her was filled with empty air. ‘Where is she gone?’ exclaimed Mrs Braggett, in a tone of utter amazement. ‘Where is _who_ gone?’ repeated Mr Braggett, hardly able to articulate from fear. ‘The lady in the chair!’ ‘There was no one there except in your own imagination. It was my great-coat that you mistook for a figure,’ returned her husband hastily, as he threw the article in question over the back of the arm-chair. ‘But how could that have been?’ said his pretty wife, rubbing her eyes. ‘How could I think a coat had eyes, and hair, and features? I am _sure_ I saw a woman seated there, and that she rose and stared at me. Siggy! tell me it was true. It seems so incomprehensible that I should have been mistaken.’ ‘You must question your own sense. You see that the room is empty now, except for ourselves, and you know that no one has left it. If you like to search under the table, you can.’ ‘Ah! now, Siggy, you are laughing at me, because you know that would be folly. But there was certainly some one here—only, where can she have disappeared to?’ ‘Suppose we discuss the matter at a more convenient season,’ replied Mr Braggett, as he drew his wife’s arm through his arm. ‘Hewetson! you will be able to tell Mr Hume that he was mistaken. Say, also, that I shall not be back in the office to-day. I am not so strong as I thought I was, and feel quite unequal to business. Tell him to come out to Streatham this evening with my letters, and I will talk with him there.’