With the manner of a man accustomed to attend to his wants he knelt down and burned some paper and wood in the grate, and the draught being all right, laid the fire, but did not set light to it. Rising, he expressed a wish to see the front room. It was, as before, quite bare and empty, and Bob said it looked as if it had not been furnished. The bell ropes were there, one broken, the other in a workable condition. I laid my hand on the unbroken cord, and cast an inquiring glance at Bob. "Yes," he said, "pull it." He threw the door wide open, and stood with his back to it, to prevent its closing. He held his revolver in his hand, his finger on the trigger. I gave the rope a smart tug, and, as on the previous eventful occasion, it was followed by the jangle of a host of discordant bells. The sounds died away in a low wail, and we waited in silent apprehension. But this time there was no response to the call; it was answered only by a dead silence. The feeling of relief I experienced was shared by Bob, though, curiously enough, there was an expression of disappointment in his face. "Of course it is better as it is," he said, "but I expected something very different. Where is your apparition, Ned?" "I cannot tell you. Thank Heaven, it is not in sight!" "Perhaps this is an end of the matter." "You are wrong, Bob; there is more to come before we finally leave the house." "We will wait for it, then," he said, and I saw that he was beginning again to believe that I had been under the spell of a delusion. "And now, as we have determined to remain here two nights, we had best go and get in the things we want to make us comfortable. I will empty my bag to carry back what we purchase, and if what we leave behind us is carried away we shall know that human, and not supernatural, agency is at work. Come along, old fellow." We left the house and no spectral apparition accompanied us. Bob's spirits rose, and I confess that I myself was somewhat shaken by the desertion of my familiar.