Richard Thornycroft did not answer. He piloted her indoors as far as the drawing-room, all in silence. The room was so dusk now that she could scarcely see the outline of the furniture. "Will you not tell it me, Mr. Richard? Mademoiselle's was but a lame tale." "What was mademoiselle's tale?" "That she saw a shadowy figure on the plateau, which disappeared almost as she looked at it. You gave her some explanation about a murderer that came again as a revenant, and she had lived in dread of seeing it ever since." If my lady had expected Richard Thornycroft to laugh in answer to her laugh, she was entirely mistaken; his face remained stern, sad, solemn. "I cannot tell you anything, Lady Ellis, that you might not hear from any soul at Coastdown," he said presently. "People, however, don't much care to talk of this." "Why don't they?" Richard lifted his dark eyebrows. "I scarcely know: a feeling undoubtedly exists against doing so. What is it you wish to hear?" "All the story, from beginning to end. Was there a murder?" "Yes; it took place on the plateau. I can give you no particulars, I was but a little fellow at the time, except that the man who committed the deed hung himself before the night was out. The superstition obtaining is, that he does not rest quietly in his unconsecrated grave, and comes abroad at times to haunt the plateau, especially the spot where the deed was done." "And that spot?" Richard extended his hand and pointed to the edge as nearly as possible in a line with the window. "It was there; just above the place they call the Half-moon. The figure appears on the brink, and stands there looking out over the sea. I should have said is reported to appear," he corrected himself. "Did you ever see it yourself?" "I cannot tell you." "Not tell me!" "I have undoubtedly seen a figure hovering there; but whether ghostly or human it has never given me time to ascertain. Before I could well cross the railings even, it has gone." "Gone where?" "I never could detect where. And to tell you the truth, I have thought it strange." "Have you seen it many times?" "Three or four." He was standing close against the side of the window as he spoke, his profile stern as ever, distinct in the nearly faded light. My lady sat and watched him. "The superstition has caused an accident or two," he resumed. "A poor coastguard-man was on his beat there one moonlight night and discerned a figure coming towards him walking on the brink of the cliff, as he was. What he saw to induce him to take it for the apparition, or to impart fear, was never explained. With a wild cry he either leaped from the cliff in his fright, or fell from it." "Was he killed on the spot?"