The next night, by some queer trick of memory, just as she went to bed, the thing came back to her, and she was surprised to find that she had no sleep in her. Instead of that she kept looking at the clock, and just before twelve, cold chills began to go down her back, when she heard the rapid approach of a carriage--this time she was conscious that her hearing was so keen that she knew there were two horses. She listened intently--no doubt about it--the carriage had stopped at the door. Then there was a silence. She was just convincing herself that there must be some sort of echo which made it appear that a team passing in the road had come up the drive--when she was suddenly sure that she heard a hurried step in the corridor--it passed the door. Now she was naturally a very unimaginative person, and had never had occasion to know fear. So, after a bit, she put out her light, saying to herself that a belated servant was busy with some neglected work--nothing more likely--and she went to sleep. Again the morning sunlight, the Man's gay companionship, the hundreds of delightful things to do, wiped out that bad quarter of an hour, and again it never occurred to her to mention it. The next night the remembrance came back so vividly after the Man had gone to his room, that she regretted she had not at least asked him if he had heard a carriage pass in the night. Of course she was sure that he had not. He was such a sound sleeper. Besides, it was not important. If he had, he would not have been nervous about it. Still, she could not sleep, and, just before the dining room clock began to chime midnight--she had never heard it before, and that she heard it now was a proof of how her whole body was listening--again came the rapid tread of running horses. This time every hair stood up on her head, and before she could control herself, she called out toward the open door: "Dearest, are you awake?" Almost before she had the words out he was standing smiling in the doorway. It was all right. "Did you _think_ you heard a carriage come up the driveway?" she asked. "Why, yes," he replied, "but I didn't." "Listen! Is there some one coming along the corridor?" He crossed the room quietly, opened the door, and turned on the light. "No, dear. There is no one there." "Hadn't you better ring for your man, and have him see if any of the servants are up?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, and laughed heartily. "See here, dear girl," he said, "you and I are a pair of healthy people. We have happened to hear a noise which we can't explain. Be sure that there is rational explanation. You're not afraid?" "Well, no, I really am not," she declared, "but you cannot deny that it is strange. Did you hear it last night?" "Go on, now, with your cross-examination," he said. "Let's go to sleep. At any rate the exhibition is over for to-night."