"Very nice--very nice indeed," he said, though it was almost too dusk for him to judge quite fully of the effect of the tapestry. "But, dear me, child, this hall is very cold. We must have a larger fire. Only October! What sort of a winter are we going to have?" He shivered as he spoke. He was standing close to one of the "_portières_"--smoothing the tapestry half absently with one hand. I looked at him with concern. "I _hope_ you have not got a chill, papa," I said. But he seemed all right again when we went into the library, where tea was waiting--an extra late tea for his benefit. The next day Nugent went to Oxford. Nat had already returned to school. So our home party was reduced to father and mother, Miss Larpent, Phil and I, and the children. We were very glad to have Phil settled at home for some time. There was little fear of his being tempted away, now that the shooting had begun. We were expecting some of our usual guests at this season; the weather was perfect autumn weather; we had thrown off all remembrance of influenza and other depressing "influences," and were feeling bright and cheerful, when again--ah, yes, even now it gives me a faint, sick sensation to recall the horror of that _third_ visitation! But I must tell it simply, and not give way to painful remembrances. It was the very day before our first visitors were expected that the blow fell, the awful fear made itself felt. And, as before, the victim was a new one--the one who, for reasons already mentioned, we had specially guarded from any breath of the gruesome terror--poor little Sophy! What she was doing alone in the hall late that evening I cannot quite recall--yes, I think I remember her saying she had run downstairs when half-way up to bed, to fetch a book she had left there in the afternoon. She had no light, and the one lamp in the hall--we never sat there after dinner--was burning feebly. _It was bright moonlight._ I was sitting at the piano, where I had been playing in a rather sleepy way--when a sudden touch on my shoulder made me start, and, looking up, I saw my sister standing beside me, white and trembling. "Leila," she whispered, "come with me quickly. I don't want mamma to notice." For mother was still nervous and delicate. The drawing-room is very long, and has two or three doors. No-one else was at our end. It was easy to make our way out unperceived. Sophy caught my hand and hurried me upstairs without speaking till we reached my own room, where a bright fire was burning cheerfully. Then she began. "Leila," she said, "I have had such an awful fright. I did not want to speak until we were safe up here." "What was it?" I exclaimed breathlessly. Did I already suspect the truth? I really do not know, but my nerves were not what they had been. Sophy gasped and began to tremble. I put my arm round her.