"Oh, you don't suppose," cried Fanny, in the greatest anxiety, "that the major's ghost has faded away, do you? Nobody has slept here for years, so that nobody has seen it for ever so long." "And you want me to assure it that you think it eminently respectable to have a wraith in the family, so you hope it will persevere in haunting Oldtower?" "Oh, it is n't that at all," Fanny said, lowering her voice. "I suppose Arthur would be furious if he knew it, or that I even mentioned it, but I am sure it is more for his sake than for my own. Don't you think that it is?" "You are simply too provoking for anything," Irene responded. "I am sure I never saw a ghost that talked so unintelligibly as you do. What in the world do you mean?" "Why, only the other day Arthur said in joke that if somebody could only make the major's--" she looked around to indicate the word which she evidently did not care to pronounce in that chamber, and Irene nodded to signify that she understood--"if only somebody could make it tell where the McHugh diamonds are--" "Oh, that's it, is it?" interrupted Irene. "Well, my dear, I am willing to speak to the major, if he will give me an opportunity; but it is not likely that I can do much. He will not care for what I say." "But appeal to his family pride," Fanny said, with an earnestness that betrayed the importance of this matter to her. "Tell him how we are going to ruin for want of just the help those diamonds would give us. He ought to have some family pride left." Miss Gaspic naturally did not wish to draw her friend into a conversation upon the financial straits of the family, and she therefore managed to turn the conversation, only repeating her promise that if the wraith of the major put in an appearance, she would do whatever lay in her power to get from him the secret which he had kept for a century. It was not long before Fanny withdrew, and, taking a book, Irene sat down to read, and await her visitor. It was just at midnight that the major's spirit made its appearance. It was a ghost of a conventional period, and it carefully observed all the old-time conditions. Irene, who had been waiting for it, raised her eyes from the book which she had been reading, and examined it carefully. The ghost had the likeness of a handsome man of rather more than middle age and of majestic presence. The figure was dressed in Continental uniform, and in its hand carried a glass apparently full of red wine. As Irene raised her eyes, the ghost bowed gravely and courteously, and then drained the cup to its depth. "Good-evening," Miss Gaspic said politely. "Will you be seated?" The apparition was evidently startled by this cool address, and, instead of replying, again bowed and again drained its glass, which had in some mysterious manner become refilled. "Thank you," Irene said, in answer to his repeated salute; "please sit down. I was expecting you, and I have something to say."