She had chosen her book, and was opening the door, when, her ears being more on the alert than usual, she heard another unusual noise, proceeding this time from the outside of the house. Kneeling upon the ottoman under the window at the west end of the corridor, she looked out, and saw to her horror a man staggering along across the grass in the direction of the sea, with a shapeless mass hanging over his shoulder; and as this shapeless mass defined itself, when her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that it was the body of a man. CHAPTER XXIX. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. It is sad, in these days of strong-minded girls with nerves of iron, to have to relate of poor Chris Abercarne that she fainted. No sooner had she convinced herself that it was really the body of another man that the living man in the garden below was carrying across his shoulder than her hands relaxed their hold of the window-sill, and she fell in a heap on the ottoman. When she opened her eyes again she knew nothing but that she felt very cold, so that for the first moment she supposed that she was in bed, and that the bed-clothes had slid off on to the floor. Raising herself, and looking about her, she soon remembered what had happened, and with a cry got on to her feet. So stiff and benumbed was she, that she staggered on her way back to her own and her mother’s room, and fumbled with the handle. While she was thus occupied, another occurrence, almost as startling as the previous one, attracted her attention. There was a flash of light at the other end of the corridor, and by it Chris saw, with perfect distinctness, Mr. Bradfield coming out of the door of the east wing. Before Chris had had time to make out where the light came from, Mr. Bradfield reclosed the door softly, and he and the light disappeared at the same time. Chris felt as if she was losing her wits. Hastily rousing her mother from sleep, she told her all that had happened in such an hysterical fashion, with such wild eyes, and such a pale face, that at first Mrs. Abercarne was disposed to think that the girl had been dreaming. Chris herself seemed to incline to the same opinion. Nevertheless, she begged her mother just to come into the corridor with her for one moment. “Perhaps,” went on Chris, her teeth chattering with the cold, “perhaps you’ll see something or hear something to show you that it was really true. But, oh! how I hope you won’t.” Mrs. Abercarne drew on her dressing-gown, and mother and daughter went out into the corridor together. They had scarcely done so before they began to cough and to choke, as a volume of blinding smoke came rushing towards them from the east end of the house. “Fire! fire! The house is on fire!” cried Mrs. Abercarne. And as she rushed along the corridor, she ran against Mr. Bradfield as he came out of his room. “What--what do you say?” cried he, as if in amazement and alarm.