He listened with hazy ideas of the kind in his mind, until it was evident that something like a tune--a weird, dreamy tune, certainly, was being developed, and that it was impossible to doubt any longer that human fingers were touching the keys of the organ. But who could it be? Who could have broken in and disturbed his privacy in so extraordinary a manner? Mostyn opened the door of his room and stole out upon the balcony, moving as stealthily as he could, anxious to see without being seen. He did not feel afraid--he was actuated by wonder and curiosity. The great lamp that hung from the ceiling above illuminated the hall. Mostyn looked straight down over the banisters at the mysterious player of the organ. It was a girl, and, as Mostyn recognised at once, there was nothing ghostly or fantastic about her neat and well-fitting coat and skirt, which were of some light material. Her head was averted, and she seemed to be allowing her fingers to roam over the keys half unconsciously, as though she were simply giving way to her fancy. She was wearing a hat, a neat straw, not very dissimilar to the one which Mostyn had found in his room, and it was evidently she whom he had heard enter the house not very long before. Presently, as he stood there, silently staring at his strange visitor, she turned her head, her attention attracted perhaps by the light from the door which Mostyn had left open behind him. Their eyes met. The girl gave a sharp scream and started up, overthrowing the carved music stool upon which she had been seated. It was very clear that the apparition of a man in the gallery was as unexpected to her as was her appearance in the hall to Mostyn. And, simultaneously with her cry, an exclamation of surprise and wonder escaped Mostyn also. He could not help himself. "Rada, by all that's holy," he cried. And then, involuntarily, the girl's name came again to his lips. "Rada!" CHAPTER VIII. MOSTYN ENTERTAINS A GUEST. For a few moments they stood, the man in the gallery, the girl in the hall, staring at each other in petrified astonishment. Neither the one nor the other seemed capable of moving. It was the girl who recovered herself first and broke the silence. She was evidently possessed of a fine spirit. "Who are you?" she cried, her voice faltering a little, but raised sufficiently for him to distinguish what she said. "Who are you, and how dare you come here?" This was good, considering that it was Mostyn's own house, and the incongruity of the question restored him to his normal power of reflection. It was Rada who was the trespasser, not he; there was evidently a misunderstanding upon both sides, a misunderstanding that must be explained away; but it was very awkward that it should be Rada Armitage of all persons in the world with whom he must parley--Rada, his pet aversion.