“Is that all, m’lord?” “That is all,” said his lordship gravely. Yet when the man had moved noiselessly to the door-- “Thomas!” “Yes, m’lord.” “I heard something by accident as you passed my window this morning with Filling the groom--er----?” “He was telling me about the Black Abbot, m’lord.” The pale face twitched spasmodically. Even in broad daylight, with the sun streaming through the stained windows and marking the parquet with arabesques of crimson and blue and amethyst, the very mention of the Black Abbot set his heart beating faster. “Any man in my employ who discusses the Black Abbot will be instantly dismissed. Will you tell your fellow servants that, Thomas? A ghost! Great God! Are you all mad?” His face was red now, little veins swelled at his temples, and under the stream of anger his dark eyes seemed to recede into his head. “Not a word! You understand? It is a lie! A mischievous wicked lie to say that Fossaway is haunted! It is a trick played by some of the louts about the place. That will do!” He waved the bowing man from his presence and resumed his study of the black-lettered book that had arrived from Germany that morning. Once outside the library door, Thomas could afford to twist his sallow features to a grin. Only for a second, and then he became serious again. There must be nearly a thousand pounds in that cash box and Thomas had once served a three-year sentence for a tenth of that sum. Even Mr. Richard Alford, who knew most things, was unaware of this interesting fact. Thomas had a letter to write, for he maintained a lucrative correspondence with one who had an especial interest in Fossaway Manor, but first he had to report the gist of the conversation to Mr. Glover, the butler. “I don’t care what his lordship says (and why he should tell a footman and not me, I don’t know) there’s a ghost and all sorts of people have seen it! I wouldn’t walk down Elm Drive alone at night for fifty million pounds!” This portly man shook a head that the years had silvered. “And his lordship believes it too. I wish he was married, that’s what I wish. He’ll be more sensible then!” “And we’ll get rid of Mr. Blooming Alford--eh, Mr. Glover?” The butler sniffed. “There’s them that likes him and them that don’t,” said the oracle. “We’ve never had a cross word, Thomas---- There’s somebody at the door.” Thomas hurried to the hall entrance and opened the big door. A girl was standing under the portico. She was pretty in a bold way, red of lips and bright of eye and dressed expensively. Thomas gave her a grin of recognition. “Good-morning, Miss Wenner--this is a bit of a surprise!” “Is his lordship in, Thomas?” The footman pursed his lips dubiously. “He _is_ in, miss, but I’m afraid I can’t take you in to him. Don’t blame me, miss, it’s Mr. Alford’s orders.” “Mr. Alford!” she sneered. “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve come all the way from London and can’t see Lord Chelford?”