"You daze me, Dr. Cairn. In brief, what do you mean?" "I mean that the spirit of Mirza is to this day loose upon the world, and is forced, by a deathless, unnatural longing to seek incarnation in a human body. It is such awful pariahs as this, Lord Lashmore, that constitute the danger of so-called spiritualism. Given suitable conditions, such a spirit might gain control of a human being." "Do you suggest that the spirit of the second lady--" "It is distinctly possible that she haunts her descendants. I seem to remember a tradition of Dhoon Castle, to the effect that births and deaths are heralded by a woman's mocking laughter?" "I, myself, heard it on the night--I became Lord Lashmore." "That is the spirit who was known, in life, as Mirza, Lady Lashmore!" "But--" "It is possible to gain control of such a being." "By what means?" "By unhallowed means; yet there are those who do not hesitate to employ them. The danger of such an operation is, of course, enormous." "I perceive, Dr. Cairn, that a theory, covering the facts of my recent experiences, is forming in your mind." "That is so. In order that I may obtain corroborative evidence, I should like to call at your place this evening. Suppose I come ostensibly to see Lady Lashmore?" Lord Lashmore was watching the speaker. "There is someone in my household whose suspicions you do not wish to arouse?" he suggested. "There is. Shall we make it nine o'clock?" "Why not come to dinner?" "Thanks all the same, but I think it would serve my purpose better if I came later." * * * * * Dr. Cairn and his son dined alone together in Half-Moon Street that night. "I saw Antony Ferrara in Regent Street to-day," said. Robert Cairn. "I was glad to see him." Dr. Cairn raised his heavy brows. "Why?" he asked. "Well, I was half afraid that he might have left London." "Paid a visit to Myra Duquesne in Inverness?" "It would not have surprised me." "Nor would it have surprised me, Rob, but I think he is stalking other game at present." Robert Cairn looked up quickly. "Lady Lashmore," he began-- "Well?" prompted his father. "One of the Paul Pry brigade who fatten on scandal sent a veiled paragraph in to us at _The Planet_ yesterday, linking Ferrara's name with Lady Lashmores.' Of course we didn't use it; he had come to the wrong market; but--Ferrara was with Lady Lashmore when I met him to-day." "What of that?" "It is not necessarily significant, of course; Lord Lashmore in all probability will outlive Ferrara, who looked even more pallid than usual." "You regard him as an utterly unscrupulous fortune-hunter?" "Certainly." "Did Lady Lashmore appear to be in good health?" "Perfectly." "Ah!" A silence fell, of some considerable duration, then: