Mrs. Trelane gazed at her stupidly. “What’s the matter?” she drawled. “Why do you greet me as if I had been buried for years? This isn’t the resurrection day.” Ismay smiled wickedly. It was more like the day of judgment, to her mind. “What on earth have you been shutting yourself up for?” Mrs. Trelane inquired crossly. “And why didn’t you answer last night when there was all that fuss? You must have heard me knocking.” “What fuss? I told you long ago I wouldn’t open my door at night. I was tired, too. I wanted to rest.” “You don’t look as if repose had agreed with you,” said her mother acidly. “Your face is blazing, and I don’t see how you could rest with Cristiane screaming. Don’t you want any breakfast?” “I’ve had it,” shortly, curiosity overwhelming her. “What was she screaming about?” “That ghost of yours and Thomas’,” she began contemptuously, but her face fell. “It’s too queer to be nice in this big house at night,” she added, closing the door behind her and sitting down. “I don’t wonder the girl screamed. I was frightened to death.” “My ghost couldn’t have frightened you last night!” For her life, Ismay could not help the retort, but she was puzzled. “What do you mean?” “Well, the ghost, then,” quite unconscious of the significance of the girl’s manner. “You were shut up in here, and I went to bed early. Marcus and Cristiane stayed down-stairs----” “You left them together?” Ismay broke in with real dismay, for Cristiane had probably profited by the opportunity to air Ismay’s acquaintance with Cylmer. “I’m not Providence!” said the woman smartly; “and, besides, I had neuralgia. At all events they sat up late, and when they came up-stairs they heard that music. Marcus, of course, didn’t know Cristiane had never heard about it, and he told her Thomas’ nonsense about the ghost.” “How did he know about it?” “Oh, I told him! I was frightened one night myself. Ismay,” her face changing, “as sure as I see you this minute, I heard those awful steps, coming closer and closer, till I was paralyzed with fear. And, later on, Marcus went up-stairs to see who was playing that piano, and his candle went out the moment he entered the room.” “I told you this wasn’t a nice house at night. But go on. What happened last night?” “Well, Cristiane had hysterics--you must have heard her; declared her father couldn’t rest in his grave, and what not. She nearly choked Marcus holding on round his neck, so that he couldn’t go up and see. I couldn’t stop her, and up came Thomas, half-dressed, and Jessie, and altogether we got Cristiane to stop her shrieking. “Then Marcus ran up-stairs, and Thomas after him, begging him to let the room alone. ‘There was a curse on it.’” “Well, did he?” with sudden interest.