"I saw nothing but a young man who was trespassing," Slight said evasively. "Your ladyship is full of fancies tonight. You will laugh at yourself in the morning." Once more Lady Dashwood sighed impatiently. She managed to drag herself back to the drawing-room without the aid of Slight. She dropped into a chair white and quivering, whilst Mary regarded her with eyes filled with deep concern. "Something has happened to you," she said. "What is it? Can I do anything?" "Nobody can do anything," Lady Dashwood whispered. "Mary, I have seen a ghost. I not only saw the ghost, but I heard the vision speak. And they wanted to persuade me that it was an old woman's foolish fancy. . . . I meant to have done something for you tonight, but I forget what it is and where I put it. I can think of nothing but my ghost. And I want to be alone, my dear, you cannot think how much I want to be alone! Ring for my maid now and go. Don't think me unkind, my child. Come back in the morning, and I will try to help you in the way you need. Kiss me and say goodnight." Mary bent down obediently and kissed the faded, unsteady lips. Her errand had been more or less of a failure, but she could not pursue the subject now. She could only ring the bell and depart as she had come. To press the matter nearest her heart would have been wanting in tact and delicacy. Very sorrowfully Mary took her way across the park in the direction of the Hall. She would come back and see Lady Dashwood after breakfast, and then if she could get what she required, she would go to London at once and get matters settled by the family solicitor. She might be an hour or two too late, but she had to risk that. The drawing-room windows were open; on the terrace in front Sir George was passing up and down with a distracted air. Mary could see that his tie was ruffled and that his hair had been stirred as if by a high wind. He paused as the girl spoke to him. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Has anything happened?" "The very worst," Sir George groaned. "They came soon after you had gone . . . three of them. One in the servants' hall, one upstairs, and one in there, the drawing-room. A foul man with a foul pipe. Look and see the creature for yourself!" CHAPTER XIII. DESECRATION A feeling of almost physical sickness held Mary for the moment. She had dreaded this thing, and at the same time she had hoped against it--it had seemed almost impossible that such a calamity could happen to Dashwood Hall. Mary would have scoffed the idea that she regarded ordinary humanity as different clay to herself, but it was so all the same. It did not seem right that one in her station of life should be called upon to suffer an indignity like this.