“I vill nod dood id,” promised the Dutchman. “I vill nod snore so loudt as a visper.” “All right,” nodded Bart; “the couch for you.” “If we escape from this town with our lives I’ll be thankful,” said Harry. “Lo, and behold! you are exceedingly timid,” mocked Ready. They soon fell to joking and laughing, after their usual manner, and, in spite of the mystery which seemed to hover near, the evening passed pleasantly. Some time in the night Frank was awakened by something that caused him to lift his head from the pillow and listen. At first he could not make out what it was, but after a while he decided that it was some person singing somewhere in the house. Finally the singing became somewhat more distinct, and he decided that it was the voice of a woman. The song, as best he could determine, was a lullaby, such as a mother might croon above the crib of her sleeping babe. It was strangely pathetic and gave Frank a peculiar sensation of sadness. To him it seemed as if the person who sang that song had met with a terrible affliction and was thus softly pouring forth the grief of a broken heart. Merry thought of the warning of the mysterious veiled woman and how she had cautioned them to pay no attention to anything they might hear. Still he could not resist the impulse to slip softly from the bed, steal to the door, open it and listen. The singing seemed to come from the upper part of the house. A moment after he opened the door it stopped, and, although he remained there for fully ten minutes, he heard it no more. Hodge was sleeping soundly, and Dunnerwurst breathing heavily, on the verge of snoring, when Merry crept back into bed. It was some time after that before Merriwell again closed his eyes in sleep. He longed to investigate the mystery, but the promise made to the veiled woman restrained him. He was inclined to fancy he had not slept at all when he was once more awakened. Something soft and cold, almost clammy, was touching his cheek gently with a patting motion. In a twinkling he was wide awake, but he did not stir. He felt a presence near him and knew some one or something was bending over the bed! A chill ran over him. The touch on his cheek was like the cold hand of a dead person! Then he heard a voice—that of a woman—which softly murmured: “Sleep, my baby—sleep! Mother is near!” Fear passed from Frank in a twinkling, and he stirred, making a grab at the hand that had touched him. Quick as he was, he was not quick enough, although he barely missed as the hand was snatched away. Springing up, he saw a shadowy figure in white gliding toward the door. At that moment Dunnerwurst awoke and beheld the figure as it flitted past the couch. Uttering a squawk of terror, the Dutchman rolled off the couch with a crash.