"Expectant attention is a fine phrase,--much like auto-suggestion. They are all right as far as they go, but they can't go to the extent of killing people. Then again, suggest even a theory, even a possible means of the death of those two by any human agency. Murder is out of the question,--suicide even more so. And they had no desire to end their lives. A young girl, happily looking forward to gaiety and pleasure,--a man in the prime of life, hale, rich, prosperous--no, they had no wish to die!" "True enough; but I can't quite see it. Why did the spirits want to kill them? if spirits did kill them?" "For interfering with this haunted house,--in a frivolous and flippant way. I've always heard that departed souls bitterly resent scoffing, or merely curious investigation." "But why choose those two? Or Vernie, anyway? Perhaps Mr. Bruce was needlessly sarcastic and sceptical." "So was the child----" "Oh, but in such an innocent, harmless way! However, Professor, I've nothing to offer in place of your argument. My creed does not admit of my subscribing to your theory, but I confess I'm unable to suggest any other. As you say, it couldn't have been suicide, and there's no possibility of foul play." The two men talked on, or sat in silent thought, far into the night. The clock struck twelve before they at last retired, leaving open their communication door, and securely locking their hall doors. Less than an hour later, a slender white-robed figure tiptoed from one of the bedrooms and looked over the banisters. Peering down through the darkness, the dim outline of old Thorpe's form was visible. He was huddled in his chair, his head fallen forward on the table. Softly returning to her room for a wrap, Eve again stealthily came to the staircase, and sat down on the uppermost step. Later still, another door silently opened, and a pair of surprised blue eyes saw Eve sitting there. Suppressing a startled exclamation, Norma scurried back to her room, but Eve did not hear her. Milly was wakeful and restless. Several times she declared she heard sounds, but when Wynne wanted to go and investigate, she refused to let him do so. The house surely seemed haunted. The aspens brushed against the windows with their eternal soughing, their leaves whispering,--hissing creepy secrets, and their branches tapping eerily on the panes. The halls were full of shadows, vague, indistinct, fading to nothingness. At four o'clock the great clock tolled the hour, and every one in the house heard it. No one was asleep, every heart was beating fast, every eye wide open, every nerve tense. But nothing happened; no shriek rent the silence, no unusual or terrifying sound was heard. Relieved, some went to sleep again, some tossed restlessly on their pillows until rising time. At breakfast all looked haggard and worn. The day was cool and pleasant, the dining room bright with sunshine, and old Hester's viands most appetizing.