She felt disturbed and worried. A great deal of her material comfort--almost, she might have truly said, much of her happiness in life--depended on Jane Pegler. In a sense Blanche Farrow had but two close friends in the world--her host, Lionel Varick, the new owner of Wyndfell Hall; and the plain, spare, elderly woman standing now before her. She realized with a sharp pang of concern what Pegler's mental defection would mean to her. It would be dreadful, _dreadful_, if Pegler began seeing ghosts, and turning hysterical. "What was the spirit like?" she asked quietly. And then, all at once, she had to suppress a violent inclination to burst out laughing. For Pegler answered with a kind of cry, "A 'orrible happarition, ma'am!" Miss Farrow could not help observing a trifle satirically: "That certainly sounds most unpleasant." But Pegler went on, speaking with a touch of excitement very unusual with her: "It was a woman--a woman with a dreadful, wicked, spiteful face! Once she came up close to my bed, and I wanted to scream out, but I couldn't--my throat seemed shut up." "D'you mean you actually saw what you took to be a ghost?" "I did see a ghost, ma'am; not a doubt of it! She walked up and down that room in there, wringing her hands all the time--I'd heard the expression, ma'am, but I'd never seen anyone do it." "Did anything else happen?" "At last she went over to the window, and--and I'm afraid you won't believe me, ma'am--but there seemed no curtains there any more, nothing but just an opening into the darkness. I saw her bend over--" An expression of terror came over the woman's face. "But how could you _see_ her," asked Miss Farrow quickly, "if there was no light in the room?" "In a sort of way," said Pegler somberly, "the spirit was supplying the light, as it were. I could see her in the darkness, as if she was a lamp moving about." "Oh, Pegler, Pegler!" exclaimed Miss Farrow deprecatingly. "It's true, ma'am! It's true as I'm standing here." Pegler would have liked to add the words "So help me God!" but somehow she felt that these words would not carry any added conviction to her mistress. And, indeed, they would not have done so, for Miss Farrow, though she was much too polite and too well-bred ever to have said so, even to herself, did not believe in a Supreme Being. She was a complete materialist. "And then, ma'am, after a bit, there it would begin, constant-like, all over again." "I don't understand...." "I'd go to sleep, and tell myself maybe that it was all a dream--argue with myself, ma'am, for I'm a sensible woman. And then all at once I'd hear that rustle again! I'd try not to open my eyes, but somehow I felt I must see what was happening. So I'd look at last--and there she'd be! Walking up and down, walking up and down, her face--oh, ma'am, her face staring-like most 'orrible--and wringing her hands. Then she'd go over to the window, lean out, and disappear, down into the black water!"