But another strange, almost incredible idea was beginning to take shape in my mind, and with it came a faint, very faint touch of relief. Could it be not the _houses_, nor the _rooms_, nor, worst of all, we ourselves that were haunted, but something or things among the old furniture we had bought at Raxtrew? And lying sleepless that night a sudden flash of illumination struck me--could it--whatever the "it" was--could it have something to do with the tapestry hangings? The more I thought it over the more striking grew the coincidences. At Finster it had been on one of the closed doors that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall. But in both cases the "_portières_" had hung in front! And at the Rectory? The tapestry, as Philip had remarked, had been there rolled up all the time. Was it possible that it had never been taken out to the barn at all? What _more_ probable than that it should have been left, forgotten, under the bench where Miss Larpent and I had felt for the second time that hideous cold? And, stay, something else was returning to my mind in connection with that bench. Yes--I had it--Nat had said "it seemed to stop and fumble away in one corner--at the end where there is a bench, you know." And then to my unutterable thankfulness at last I fell asleep. PART IV. I told Philip the next morning. There was no need to bespeak his attention. I think he felt nearly as horrified as I had done myself at the idea that our own hitherto bright, cheerful home was to be haunted by this awful thing--influence or presence, call it what you will. And the suggestions which I went on to make struck him, too, with a sense of relief. He sat in silence for some time after making me recapitulate as precisely as possible every detail of Sophy's story. "You are sure it was the door into the library?" he said at last. "Quite sure," I replied; "and, oh, Philip," I went on, "it has just occurred to me that _father_ felt a chill there the other evening." For till that moment the little incident in question had escaped my memory. "Do you remember which of the "_portières_" hung in front of the door at Finster?" said Philip. I shook my head. "Dormy would," I said, "he used to examine the pictures in the tapestry with great interest. I should not know one from the other. There is an old castle in the distance in each, and a lot of trees, and something meant for a lake." But in his turn Philip shook his head. "No," he said, "I won't speak to Dormy about it if I can possibly help it. Leave it to me, Leila, and try to put it out of your own mind as much as you possibly can, and don't be surprised at anything you may notice in the next few days. I will tell you, first of any one, whenever I have anything to tell." That was all I could get out of him. So I took his advice.