“Do so. By that time I may possibly have something to tell you.” Lady Pell scarcely waited for dinner to come to an end before she was back in the library. At the door she met Trant bringing out a tray containing the remains of Sir Gilbert’s apology for a dinner. “Master seems better, much better, ma’am,” he whispered as he passed her. Then she entered, seated herself comfortably near the fire, settled her glasses on her nose, deposited her ball of worsted on the hearthrug at her feet, and gave a preliminary click with her needles. The Baronet sat gazing into the fire for a little space; then he cleared his voice and said: “Louisa, I have been the subject of a very strange experience to-day.” “Indeed, cousin?” responded her ladyship, in just that tone of sympathetic surprise which indicated that she was fully in touch with him. “But it is not the first strange experience you have had of late.” “No indeed,” with a sigh. “But I will tell you all about it. Perhaps you may be able to suggest an explanation where I confess that at present I see none. Feeling somewhat lonely as the day wore on—so used have I become of late to seeing faces round me—and it being still too early to have the lamps lighted, I took a cigar, and having put on my hat and coat, went out for a stroll in the grounds. At first I confined myself to the terrace, but finding the air there rather chilly, after a time I went down the steps and began to pace the sheltered paths of the shrubbery on the lower level. I had finished my cigar—I am a very slow smoker—and in the shrubbery it had grown almost dark before I turned to go indoors. I was crossing that piece of sward on my way to the terrace steps, when I was seized with a sudden giddiness. Everything seemed to go round with me. Stumbling forward a step or two with outstretched hands, my knees gave way under me and I sank, rather than fell, forward on the turf and lost consciousness. When I came in some measure to myself, which must have been after a very few moments, I had a sense of being borne swiftly along in a pair of strong arms. Then, I could tell by the change of atmosphere that I was indoors, and a moment later I felt myself being laid gently down, while the arms that had carried me were withdrawn. And then—perhaps you will scarcely credit it—I seemed to feel a kiss pressed on my forehead—yes, on mine, the forehead of an old man of seventy-four! On the instant I opened my eyes, and there, clearly outlined by the flame of the burning logs on the hearth, I saw bending over me—whom or what think you?” Thus directly appealed to, Lady Pell simply arched her eyebrows and shook her head as one wholly at a loss for an answer. In the interest excited by her kinsman’s narrative her hands, still holding her needles, lay idle on her lap. “A robed and cowled figure,” returned Sir Gilbert, “of whom I could discern little save its long grizzled beard.”