It was frightfully still. Brown listened for the murmuring of water. There was none. The recent hot sun had probably dried up the spring. Through the same gap in the hedge he saw a big cow--possibly, so he thought, the same cow--and he took it as a favourable augury for the appearance of the ghost that the animal, as before, was gazing fixedly into the open space, as if momentarily expecting to see something. Behind it, away back in the broad expanse of field, were other cattle, their skins startlingly white; all motionless, and all in attitudes suggestive of a sense of anticipation, of a conscious waiting for something. The sepulchral hush was uninterrupted saving by bats, assuredly the biggest and blackest Brown had ever seen, wheeling and skimming, with the faintest perceptible whiz, whiz, whiz, in and out the larches; and the soft intermittent fanning of the leaves as the night breeze came rustling over the flat country and continued its career down into the hollow. A rabbit scurried across the road from one gate to another, its white breast shining silver, and some other small furry creature, of a species undetected, created a brief pandemonium in a neighbouring ditch. Otherwise all nature was extraordinarily passive. "The figure went right down into the hollow," Brown said. "I think we ought to try there. What do you think, Mrs. de Roscovi?" "I am of the same opinion as Madame Valenspin," Mrs. de Roscovi replied, glancing apprehensively at the dip. "I think we had far better stay where we are." "Very well, then," Brown said, "let's begin. You are mistress of the ceremonies, Madame Valenspin. Will you tell us what to do?" Madame Valenspin moved to one side of the road, and stood with her back resting against a gate. "Keep quite close to me," she said, "and I will try and go under control. Ah!" She ejaculated the last syllable so sharply that Brown and Mrs. de Roscovi both started. She then began to mumble something, and then, breaking into a shrill, high-pitched key, stated that she was no longer Madame Valenspin but a spirit called Anne Heathcote, who was her temporary control. Anne Heathcote, so the audience were informed, was the ghost of a girl of very great beauty, who had been murdered in an adjoining field, close on a hundred years ago. There was no apparent motive for the deed, which was accomplished in a peculiarly barbarous fashion, the head being cut right off and thrown in a pit that had long since been filled in. The criminal was never caught. "Can't you appear to us with your head on," Brown asked, "just as you were in your lifetime?" "No," the alleged spirit replied. "I am forbidden to do so. My visits are only periodical, and I shan't be able to materialise again here for at least ten years." "Then there is little hope of my ever seeing you," Brown said, bitterly disappointed. "None," was the somewhat abrupt answer.