"He's sound asleep, deary, the fit having passed. A gal o' mine, of the true Romany breed, looking after him. Your sweet husband here"--she waved a skinny hand towards Vand--"asked me to come and see what I could do to lay this unquiet spirit who walks." "Rubbish! rubbish!" said Mrs. Vand, now feeling more confident in company. "It's not rubbish, deary," said Mrs. Tunks, mysteriously; "the dead walk." "The dead?" "Your poor brother, as is uneasy at having been pitched out of life so cruel. He's walking," and she nodded weirdly. On hearing this statement, Sarah whimpered and clutched at Mrs. Vand's dress, whereupon that lady who was extremely pale herself--shook her off. "Go to bed, Sarah," she commanded. "Me!" screeched the girl, "and when there's ghosts walking! I'd scream myself into fits if I went up-stairs." Mrs. Vand appealed to her husband. "Henry, make her go." The young man took the girl by the shoulders, and propelled her towards the foot of the stairs, but Sarah resisted wildly, and finally made a bolt for the still open front door. "I'll go home to mother," she cried hysterically, and disappeared into the darkness. "There," said Mrs. Vand, angrily, to Granny Tunks. "See what you've done. The house will get a bad name. I'll give that minx warning in the morning." Vand, seeing that it was useless to run after the terrified Sarah, who by this time was half-way to Marshely, closed the door, and shrugged his shoulders. "Come into the drawing-room," he said to Mrs. Tunks. "No, no!" cried his wife, shaking; "the ghost is there. I heard the rapping and the sighing and the----" "Yes, yes, yes!" interrupted Vand, with less than his usual coolness; "that is why I have brought Granny. There is an evil influence in this house, and I want her to find out what it is." "Do you believe in such rubbish?" "You seemed to believe in it just now," said the cripple drily. "Yes, I do believe in the unseen, as I have had too much proof not to believe." "Then get a priest, get a priest!" cried Mrs. Vand wildly, and looking twice her age. "What is the use of this old fool?" Granny Tunks laughed in an elfish manner when she heard herself spoken of thus, and seemed very little put out. "A fool can do what a wise woman can't," she croaked; "your husband's wiser nor you, deary. He knows." "Knows what?" asked Mrs. Vand, turning on the ancient gipsy fiercely. "That there's danger coming to you and him." Mrs. Vand cast one scared and indignant look on the withered face, and ran into the drawing-room. Henry had preceded her here, and was standing by the table looking round the room in an inquiring manner, evidently on the alert for the mysterious sounds. Mrs. Vand caught his arm. "Do you hear what this woman says?" she asked, shaking him. "As the door was open I did hear," he replied coolly; "don't be a fool, Rosamund. I brought her here to see what she can tell us." "About?--" Mrs. Vand faltered and broke down.