As there was no response he called again, and this time there was a laugh--an ugly, malevolent kind of chuckle that made Menzies jump up at once and angrily demand who was there. No one replying, he went to the room door, and, opening it wide, saw a few yards from him a tall dark figure enveloped in what appeared to be a cloak and gown. "Hulloa!" he cried. "Who are you, and what the ---- do you want here?" Whereupon the figure drew aside its covering and revealed a face that caused Menzies to utter an exclamation of terror and spring back. It was the face of an old woman with very high cheek-bones, tightly drawn shrivelled skin, and obliquely set pale eyes that gleamed banefully as they met Menzies' horrified stare. A disordered mass of matted yellow hair crowned her head and descended half-way to her shoulders, revealing, however, her ears, which stood out prominently from her head, huge and pointed, like those of an enormous wolf. A leadenish white glow seemed to emanate from within her and to intensify the general horror of her appearance. Though Menzies had never believed in ghosts before, he felt certain now that he was looking at something which did not belong to this world. It was, he affirmed, so absolutely hellish that he would have uttered a prayer and bid it begone, had not his words died in his throat so that he could not articulate a sound. He then tried to raise a hand to cross himself, but this, also, he was unable to do; and the only thing he found he could do, was to stare at it in dumb, open-mouthed horror and wonder. How long this state of affairs might have gone on it is impossible to say; but at the sound of heavy and unmistakably human footsteps, first in the lower part of the building, and then ascending the stone staircase leading to this flat, the old woman disappeared, apparently amalgamating with the somewhat artistic hangings on the wall behind her. Menzies was still rubbing his eyes and looking when O'Hara burst in upon him. "Hulloa, Donald, is that you?" he began. "I've done it." "Done what?" Menzies stuttered, his nerves all anyhow. "Why, proposed to Gabrielle, of course," O'Hara went on excitedly, "and she's accepted me. She, the prettiest, sweetest, finest little colleen I've ever come across, has told me she will marry me. Ye gods, I shall go off my head with joy; go stark, staring mad, I tell you." And crossing the floor of the study he tumbled into the chair Menzies himself had just occupied. "I say, old fellow, why don't you congratulate me?" he continued. "I do congratulate you," Menzies observed, taking another seat. "Of course I congratulate you, but are you sure she is the sort of girl you will always care about or who will always care about you. You haven't known her very long, and most women cost a deuced lot of money, especially French ones. Don't take the irrevocable steps before contemplating them well first."