He sprang out on to the road, and set off at a great pace towards the town. For a few moments I strove to keep up with him, trotting by his side, and pleading brokenly with him that he would at least take time to think. But he paid no heed to anything I said; he walked straight on, staring in front of him with that set deadly look in his eyes. And after a time I was compelled from sheer exhaustion to drop behind, and to see him go on steadily before me until he was lost to sight. I walked on feebly for a little time, perhaps with some faint hope that he might repent of his purpose, and turn back. Presently on the road before me I saw a man standing, and for a moment the wild hope sprang up in my mind that this was Arnold Millard, already hesitating; as I ran up to him, however, I saw that it was Fanshawe, who had evidently run himself to a standstill. He was muttering to himself like one possessed, laughing and trembling, and standing still to look about him and to listen. As I went up to him he took me by the arm, and spoke again those mad words he had used in the grounds of the house. "The dead come alive, Charlie," he whispered. "As I hope for Heaven, I saw the face--there--going past me like a face in a dream. I saw her, I tell you." "Who?" I asked, with my mind full of something else. "Barbara," he whispered. "Not the child--but _your_ Barbara--_my_ Barbara! She went past me like a spirit!" Horrified at the mere thought, I clapped my hand upon his lips, and looked about me fearfully; for all at once it seemed almost possible that on that night of disaster the spirit of the dead woman might have come back, in the vain hope to save her child. I shuddered in the wintry wind that swept about us both on the deserted road; I peered into the shadows, awed and afraid. "Fool!" I muttered savagely, to hide my own fears. "You don't know what you're talking about. It's the new Barbara--the child--about which we're concerned to-night. She's gone." "And the old Barbara come back," he said; and stood there shuddering, with his face hidden in his hands. I left him, and went back towards the house. It seemed as though I was shaken to my very soul, as though something mysterious and wonderful was in the very air itself, threatening me. I pushed open the gate leading into the grounds, and peered in, like a little child afraid of the dark; then I went in, picking my way cautiously through the ruined and neglected garden, with my eyes fixed upon the terrace. Coming to it, I crept among the shadows, and peered in. Murray Olivant was no longer there; but in his usual chair, with the decanter and a glass beside him, sat Lucas Savell in the lighted room in a heavy slumber. And once again from that opposite end of the terrace I saw the shadowy woman creep forward, and look into the room. With my very hair rising, as it seemed, and my limbs trembling, I took a step towards her, and called her name-- "Barbara!"