“That is because you are so widely separated from the house by the beautiful grounds,” said Mr. Lane. “Now, I heard it twice, for when I looked up at the first sound it was repeated in a louder and even more blood-curdling voice than before, and a flash of light gleamed through the shutters for an instant, then faded into Cimmerian darkness and gloom again.” “Do you hear that, Aline?” cried little Max. “Oh, don’t you wish that you had heard it? Do you remember how we used to talk about the Delaney ghost before you went away?” “Yes, dear,” she answered in a constrained voice, without turning toward the little social group gathered around the fire. “I was puzzled and alarmed when I heard that sound last night. I thought perhaps Delaney had a crazy wife or sister. I had not heard about the ghost then,” said Mr. Lane. “Mr. Delaney is not married,” said Mrs. Rodney. “No? And are there no females resident in his house?” inquired the detective. “I have heard that there is a solitary housekeeper, but I have never seen her,” she replied. “It was, then, really a ghost that I heard,” said Mr. Lane. “I am surprised. I did not really believe in the existence of spirits in this practical nineteenth century.” No one made him any direct answer. It is true that a vein of superstition runs through most people even in this enlightened age. The Rodneys had heard so much about the Delaney ghost that they hardly questioned the veracity of the story. And yet they did not care about confessing it to Mr. Lane. It was just possible that he might turn the story into ridicule. He appeared to be very hard and practical, without any romantic weaknesses. So the conversation drifted into other channels, and Mr. Lane made no effort to prevent it, having learned all that there was to be told on the subject. He quietly stored away all that he had heard in his mind, and no one had any idea that he was specially interested in Delaney House and its strange master. In a little while the time for the parting came. Dr. Anthony and his bride were to have a little bridal tour South. They went away, followed by tears and regrets and a score of good wishes, symbolized by lavish shower of old slippers that Max threw after the departing bride. CHAPTER XXXVI. “Aline, will you come down to the river and skate this morning? The ice is ten inches thick, and as smooth as glass,” said Max Rodney to his sister the morning after Effie’s marriage. She shook her head with a slight, wintery smile. “Do not tempt me, Max,” she said, “you have got me into too many scrapes in the past, and now I have promised mamma that I will never do so any more.” The handsome, rosy-cheeked boy, with the skates slung carelessly over his shoulder, regarded her with palpable disappointment. “Oh, Allie, do come,” he said. “Do you remember last winter what glorious fun we had on the river? And now it is smoother and better than it was then. I know you would like it, and I’m sure mamma would not care.”