"Be brave," he said; "you have more to tell me yet, as I have more to tell you. Guy is alive, we are certain of that. But he is in some one's power. The spirit of this man, Eustace Charliewood, knows where he is. He is trying to tell us. He is trying to make amends for something. He must have had something to do with Guy's disappearance." "Mr. Charliewood," Marjorie said in a whisper, "was William Gouldesbrough's intimate friend. He was always about the house. When Guy Rathbone disappeared, Eustace Charliewood killed himself. William was at Brighton at the time. He was trying to help me and my mother to find Guy." "Go on with your story, if you can," Megbie said. "One more effort!" "I knew that the figure was trying to tell me about Guy. Something told me that with absolute certainty. But it couldn't tell me. It began to weep and wring its hands. Oh, it was pitiful! Then suddenly, it seemed to realize that it was no use. It stood upright and rigid, and fixed its eyes upon me. Mr. Megbie, such mournful eyes, eyes so full of sorrow and terrible remorse, were never in a human face. As those eyes stared down at me, a deep drowsiness began to creep over me. Sleep came flooding over me with a force and power such as I had never known before. It was impossible to withstand it. People who have taken some drug must feel like that. Just as I was, in the chair in front of the dressing-table, I sank into sleep." "And your dream?" Megbie said quietly. She started. "Ah, you know," she said. "The spirit of Eustace Charliewood could not tell me while I was conscious. But in sleep he could influence my brain in some other mysterious way. I dreamed that Guy was in a sort of cell. By some means or other I knew that it was underground. A man was there, a man whom I have met, a man--a horrible creature--who is a fellow-worker of Sir William Gouldesbrough. The man was doing something to Guy. I couldn't see what it was. Then the picture faded away. I seemed to be moving rapidly in a cold empty place where there was no wind or air, sound, or, or--I can't describe it. It was a sort of 'between place.'" "And then?"