"Thorpe could let him in and out, if he wanted to." "Into the back part of the house. But Thorpe himself can't get into the main house, the rooms that we use, after I lock the doors between. Come, now, Professor, you know all that as well as I do. Either you dreamed your ghost, or it's the real thing, this time. Take your choice." Landon was so cheerful and took the thing so lightly, that Hardwick began to feel more at ease, and recounted his story in further detail. "It was the real thing," he concluded. "I wish Rudolph or Mr. Tracy had been here. They sleep in this wing, and they would have come to me more quickly than you did, Wynne." "I came the moment I heard you call, at least, as soon as I could slip into a bathrobe." "I know you did, and it wouldn't have mattered. That thing didn't walk away down the corridor, you know, it just faded away,--vanished into the air. I could see it----" "How could you, with no light?" "I don't know how I did. It wasn't exactly luminous, and yet it gave out a very faint glow, enough for me to see it, anyhow. Oh, I shall never forget its awful grin!" Professor Hardwick told his tale to Eve and Norma later in the day, and in the afternoon the men returned. Mr. Tracy said he had been to Boston, to see the trustees of a church that had called him to its pastorate, and Braye had been in New York looking after some of his late uncle's business affairs. Both men were deeply interested in the story of the ghost, for as they said, Professor Hardwick was not one to imagine or to think himself awake when he was dreaming. They listened attentively, and Tracy summed it up by saying, "Well, if Professor Hardwick saw that, it makes me feel like believing in the supernatural." "Me, too," agreed Braye. "I don't take much stock in the stories of the girls, for Eve is a visionary creature, and Norma is very imaginative. But when a rational, scientific man sees things, I believe the things are there to be seen! At least, I'm willing to believe. I would feel more certain if I saw it myself,--and yet,--to tell the truth I've no desire to see it. I'll take other people's words for it. How about you, Tracy?" "I don't believe I'm psychic, or sensitive, or whatever you call it," and the clergyman smiled. "You know I slept in the Room with the Tassels, but no ghostly visitor favoured me." "It may come to you yet," said Hardwick, turning grave eyes on Tracy, "or you, either, Rudolph. You see, it doesn't visit _only_ that room. I wish some of you others could see it, I'd feel more sure of my own story." "Aren't you sure of it?" asked Tracy. "What do you mean by sure?" queried the Professor, a little petulantly. "Of course, I'm sure I saw what I've told you, but I want to be sure it _was_ a ghost, and not a person tricking me. Could it have been Miss Carnforth, now?"