Mother said no more, and Dormer went on with his tea, and when bed-time came he seemed just as usual, so that her anxiety faded. But she made thorough investigation as to the possibility of any draught coming up from the back stairs, with which this door communicated. None was to be discovered--the door fitted fairly well, and beside this, Hunter had tacked felt round the edges--furthermore, one of the thick heavy _portières_ had been hung in front. An evening or two later we were sitting in the drawing room after dinner, when a cousin who was staying with us suddenly missed her fan. "Run and fetch Muriel's fan, Dormy," I said, for Muriel felt sure it had slipped under the dinner table. None of the men had as yet joined us. "Why, where are you going, child?" as he turned towards the farther door. "It is much quicker by the gallery." He said nothing, but went out, walking rather slowly, by the gallery door. And in a few minutes he returned, fan in hand, but by the _other_ door. He was a sensitive child, and though I wondered what he had got into his head against the gallery, I did not say anything before the others. But when, soon after, Dormy said "Good night," and went off to bed, I followed him. "What do you want, Leila?" he said rather crossly. "Don't be vexed, child," I said. "I can see there is something the matter. Why do you not like the gallery?" He hesitated, but I had laid my hand on his shoulder, and he knew I meant to be kind. "Leila," he said, with a glance round, to be sure that no one was within hearing--we were standing, he and I, near the inner dining-room door, which was open--"you'll laugh at me, but--there's something queer there--sometimes!" "What? And how do you mean 'sometimes'?" I asked, with a slight thrill at his tone. "I mean not always, I've felt it several times--there was the cold the day before yesterday, and besides that, I've felt a--a sort of _breaving_"--Dormy was not perfect in his "th's"--"like somebody very unhappy." "Sighing?" I suggested. "Like sighing in a whisper," he replied, "and that's always near the door. But last week--no, not so long ago, it was on Monday--I went round that way when I was going to bed. I didn't want to be silly. But it was moonlight--and--Leila, a shadow went all along the wall on that side, and stopped at the door. I saw it waggling about--its _hands_," and here he shivered--"on that funny curtain that hangs up, as if it were feeling for a minute or two, and then----" "Well,--what then?" "It just went out," he said simply. "But it's moonlight again to-night, sister, and I daren't see it again. I just _daren't_." "But you did go to the dining-room that way," I reminded him. "Yes, but I shut my eyes and ran, and even then I felt as if something cold was behind me." "Dormy, dear," I said, a good deal concerned, "I do think it's your fancy. You are not _quite_ well yet, you know."