"You remember how he started on that restful vacation which he is still enjoying?" A shudder ran over her. She strove to speak, but her voice died in her throat. "My father," he said dreamily, "seems to want me to join him during his vacation--" "Louis!" "What are you frightened about? It's as good a vacation as any other--only one takes no luggage and pays no hotel bills.... Haven't you any sense of humour left in you, Shiela? I'm not serious." She said, trembling, and very white: "I thought you meant it." Then she rose with a shiver, turned, and mounted the stairs to her room again. But in the stillness of the place something was already at work on her--fear--a slow dawning alarm at the silence, the loneliness, the forests, the rain--a growing horror of the place, of the people in it, of this man the world called her husband, of his listening silences, his solitary laughter, his words spoken to something unseen in empty rooms, his awful humour. Her very knees were shaking under her now; she stared around her like a trapped thing, desperate, feeling that self-control was going in sudden, ungovernable panic. Scarcely knowing what she was about she crept to the telephone and, leaning heavily against the wall, placed the receiver to her ear. For a long while she waited, dreading lest the operator had gone. Then a far voice hailed her; she gave the name; waited interminable minutes until a servant's sleepy voice requested her to hold the wire. And, at last: "Is it you?" * * * * * "Garry, could you come here to-night?" * * * * * "Danger? No, I am in no danger; I am just frightened." * * * * * "I don't know what is frightening me." * * * * * "No, not ill. It's only that I am so horribly alone here in the rain. I--I cannot seem to endure it." She was speaking almost incoherently, now, scarcely conscious of what she was saying. "There's a man downstairs who talks in empty rooms and listens to things I cannot hear--listens every day, I tell you; I've seen him often, often--I mean Louis Malcourt! And I cannot endure it--the table that moves, and the--O Garry! Take me away with you. I cannot stand it any longer!" * * * * * "Will you come?" * * * * * "To-night, Garry?" * * * * * "How long will you be? I simply cannot stay alone in this house until you come. I'll go down and saddle my mare--" * * * * * "What?" * * * * * "Oh, yes--yes! I know what I'm doing--" * * * * * "Yes, I do remember, but--why won't you take me away from--" * * * * * "I know it--Oh, I know it! I am half-crazed, I think--" * * * * * "Yes--" * * * * *