Scarcely had they disappeared within the doors of the east wing, when Mr. Chandos came swiftly and suddenly out of his own chamber. Only a moment seemed to have elapsed, yet he had found it sufficient time to finish dressing, for he was now fully attired. His appearing from his chamber, after disappearing within the east wing, established the fact that his room did communicate with it. Almost simultaneously Hickens ran up the stairs from the hall, a light in his hand. Mr. Chandos advanced upon him, and peremptorily waved him back. "Go back to bed, sir. You are not wanted." But as the light fell on Mr. Chandos's face, I saw that he was deadly pale, and his imperative manner seemed to proceed from fear, not anger. "I heard a scream, Mr. Harry," responded poor Hickens, evidently taken to. "I'm sure I heard voices; and I—I—thought some thieves or villains of that sort had got in, sir." "Nothing of the kind. There's nothing whatever the matter to call for your aid. Mrs. Chandos is nervous to-night, and cried out—it is not the first time it has happened, as you know. She is all right again now, and my mother is with her. Go back, and get your rest as usual." "Shall I leave you the light, sir?" asked Hickens, perceiving that Mr. Chandos had none. "Light? No. What do I want with a light? Mrs. Chandos's ailments have nothing to do with me." He stood at the head of the stairs, watching Hickens down, and listening to his quiet closing of the doors dividing the hall from the kitchen-passages. Hickens slept downstairs, near his plate-pantry. He was late in going to rest, as it was explained afterwards, and had heard the noise overhead in the midst of undressing. Mr. Chandos turned from the stairs, and I suppose the slender inch-stream of moonlight must have betrayed to him that my door was open. He came straight towards it with his stern, white face, and I had no time to draw back. He and ceremony were at variance that night. "Miss Hereford, I beg your pardon, but I must request that you retire within your room and allow your door to be closed," came the peremptory injunction. "Mrs. Chandos is ill, and the sight of strangers would make her worse. I will close it for you; I should so act by my sister, were she here." He shut it with his own hand, and turned the key upon me. Turned the key upon me! Well, I could only submit, feeling very much ashamed to have had my curiosity observed, and scuffled into bed. Nothing more was heard; not the faintest movement to tell that anything unusual had happened. But how strangely mysterious it all appeared! One curious commotion, one unaccountable mystery succeeding to another: I had heard of haunted castles in romances, of ghostly abbeys; surely the events enacted in them could not be more startling than these at Chandos. Morning came. I was up betimes; dressed, read; found my room unlocked, and went out of doors while waiting for breakfast. Mr. Chandos passed on his way from the house, and stopped.