Something in her manner alarmed us all, and the doctor quietly left his seat and followed her. As she quitted the room, he came out behind her; and in the better light on the landing, as he told us later, saw that she was deathly pale. “Miss Brearley!” he said. She turned. “_Ssh!_” she whispered, anxiously, “it is nothing--Doctor Fairbank. The excitement has made me rather faint, that is all. I shall go to my room and lie down. Believe me, I am quite well!” “But there is no servant in the house,” he whispered, “if you should become worse----” “If I need anything I shall not hesitate to ring,” she answered. “It is so still, you will hear the bell. Please go back! He has hoped for so much from this.” Fairbank was nonplussed. But the appeal was so obviously sincere, and the situation so difficult, that he saw no alternative. Ailsa Brearley passed along the corridor. Fairbank slipped back into the study, where Moris Klaw and I anxiously awaited him. From the inner room came Brearley’s voice, muffled. The long vigil began. I found myself claimed by the all-pervading spirit of mystery. For some little time I listened in expectation of hearing Ailsa Brearley returning. But soon the strange business of the night claimed my mind, to the exclusion of every other idea. I found myself listening only for Brearley’s muffled voice. Although the half-audible words were meaningless, their sound assumed, as time wore on, a curious significance. They seemed potent with a strange power proceeding not _from_ them, but _to_ them. Then I heard a new sound. Fairbank heard it--for I saw him start, and Moris Klaw muttered something. It did not come from the trees outside, nor from the inner room. It was somewhere in the house. A faint rattling it was, bell-like but toneless. Brearley’s voice had ceased. Again the sound rose--nearer. I turned my head toward Fairbank, and seemed to perceive him more clearly. I had less difficulty in distinguishing the objects about. Again it came--the shivering, bell-like sound. Even the strings of the harp were visible now. “Curse me!” came Moris Klaw’s hoarse whisper; “it seems to grow light! That is a delusion of the mind, my friends--repel it--repel it!” Fairbank drew a quick, sibilant breath. A half-suppressed exclamation from Klaw followed; for the high-pitched rattle came from close at hand! The sense of the supernormal had grown unbearable. Fairbank’s science and my own semi-scepticism were but weapons of sand against it. The door opened silently, admitting a flood of the soft moon-like radiance. And Ailsa Brearley entered! Her slim figure was bathed in light; her fair hair, unbound, swept like a gleaming torrent about her shoulders. She looked magnificently, unnaturally beautiful. A diaphanous veil was draped over her face. From her radiant figure I turned away my head in sudden, stark _fear!_ Fairbank, clutching the arms of his chair, seemed to strive to look away, too.