"Probably just another wild goose chase," he said presently. "Looks to me more like a matter for the police. The girl's guardian, Uriah Kroll, disappeared over a year ago--and since then his room has been very strange. That's all it amounts to. I suppose the young lady thinks she's got a ghost on her hands." The younger man smiled. "Something about a shadow, isn't there?" "Yes. 'There's a queer shadow on the bed in his room when the moon shines,' she writes. 'I can't understand it. It shouldn't be there.' That's all." "Very lucid," commented Tenny laconically. The inn itself was a quiet little house of stone, hugging the ground in the middle of a clearing not very far from the heavily wooded roadside. A flagstone walk led up to a low stone porch, where the key to the front door lay under the mat, just where Miss Harriet Sears had said it would be in her letter to Follansbee. As he bent to unlock the door, Follansbee said, "At least we can thank goodness we're alone. Miss Sears isn't likely to come bursting in on us at all hours of the night--she vowed she'd never set foot inside the building until we'd settled that shadow business." He threw the door open on a short hallway leading directly into a low, raftered sitting-room, into which Follansbee immediately strode, followed by his companion. The room was comfortably and well furnished with antique pieces. The chairs were curiously carved and obviously hand-made. Follansbee, however, wasted no time in the sitting-room, but led the way into another, smaller room, and around into a large bedroom in the southeast corner of the building. This was the room which had been occupied by Uriah Kroll, prior to his disappearance, as described in Miss Sears' letter. It was a large, oddly furnished room, with a bed against the south wall, and a single chair next to it, the north wall of the room next the door being occupied by what appeared to be a work-bench. Follansbee, having looked cursorily at the bed, went over to the bench and bent above it. Tenny came over and stood at his side. "What do you make of it?" Follansbee asked. "Queer outfit," Tenny replied. "Looks as if he might have been blowing glass, doesn't it?" Follansbee bent and took up a book. "Well, look at this," he said in surprise. "Arbatel's _Treatise on Magic_." "Yes," supplemented Tenny excitedly, "and see here--he's got a trident, and incense, and oils--why, he dabbled in magic!" "No doubt of it," assented Follansbee gravely. He put the book down and examined the instruments on the bench. He chuckled oddly to himself, held up a magical diagram made on a sheet of stiff paper, and smiled at it with Tenny. Then he turned away, looked once more about the room, and said, "If you brought the lunch kit, we'll eat. The sun'll go down in about three-quarters of an hour, and the moon'll be up shortly after. We might as well be ready." "What's the procedure?"