How long he had remained thus he could not say, but he was awoke by a low moan or whine from Gip, who, upon discovering his master awakening, wagged his tail and came to the side of the bed; then he crept towards the door and sniffed at its base. “Something’s amiss,” whispered our hero. “The sagacious brute hears or noses somebody――that’s quite certain.” He crept softly to the door, against which he placed his ear. He heard the sounds of soft footsteps on the outside, but they were so faint as to be hardly audible. With revolver in hand he awaited the issue. The dog in the meantime was in an evident state of anxiety. Peace, before stretching himself on his bed, had taken the precaution to place his lighted chamber-candle in the fireplace, which effectively prevented its feeble rays penetrating into the passage on the outside. “Somebody or something is stirring,” he muttered. “I can’t stand this state of suspense any longer――so here goes.” He slid the bolt back as noiselessly as possible, and flung open the door. A flood of moonlight streamed in from the window on the landing. Beyond this was a wide oak staircase, and ascending this he beheld a strange-looking figure, clad in a long steel-coloured cloak. To all appearance the figure was that of a woman. But Peace had never remembered to have seen any such person in the hostelry since he had dwelt there. “Holloa there――who are you? Speak, woman,” shouted out Peace. No answer was vouchsafed to this. “If you don’t speak and say who you are I’ll fire. I’ve a loaded pistol in my hand. Do you hear? For the last time I say speak, if it only be to save your life.” The figure turned the angle of the stairs, but made no answer. A buxom servant wench opened the door of her bedroom, and exclaimed―― “Mother Brickett’s ghost!” She then uttered a series of piercing screams, and rushed back into her room in a state of abject terror. Peace made for the bottom of the stairs, and fired one chamber of his revolver. He did not aim at the receding figure, his object being only to frighten. In this he succeeded, as far as the inmates were concerned. Mr. Wrench came out in his night shirt, pale as a parsnip. Brickett made his appearance in the passage, and exclaimed, in a loud voice―― “For mercy’s sake, tell me what’s the matter! Are there robbers in the house, or what?” “It be missus’s ghost, that’s what it be!” exclaimed the servant girl, from her bedroom. “Ah, woe is me that I should live to see such a dreadful sight!” “You little fool,” cried Peace, “hold your cursed tongue, will you? Ghost, indeed!――more like a robber.” “I’ve lost the jewels; they’ve been stolen!” said the detective. “Lost them! Don’t let anyone leave the house.” He returned to his bedroom, slipped on his trousers and boots. Meanwhile Peace turned to Brickett, and said―― “Who’s in the house besides ourselves? Any stranger?” “Yes, one.” “Which is his room?”