"Yes, I am," he replied sturdily. "I'm not a bit frightened anywhere else. I sleep in a room alone you know. It's not _me_, sister, its somefing in the gallery." "Would you be frightened to go there with me now? We can run through the dining-room; there's no one to see us," and I turned in that direction as I spoke. Again my little brother hesitated. "I'll go with you if you'll hold hands," he said, "but I'll shut my eyes. And I won't open them till you tell me there's no shadow on the wall. You must tell me truly." "But there must be some shadows," I said, "in this bright moonlight, trees and branches, or even clouds scudding across--something of that kind is what you must have seen, dear." He shook his head. "No, no, of course I wouldn't mind that. I know the difference. No--you couldn't mistake. It goes along, right along, in a creeping way, and then at the door its hands come farther out, and it _feels_." "Is it like a man or a woman?" I said, beginning to feel rather creepy myself. "I think it's most like a rather little man," he replied, "but I'm not sure. Its head has got something fuzzy about it--oh, I know, like a sticking out wig. But lower down it seems wrapped up, like in a cloak. Oh, it's _horrid_." And again he shivered--it was quite time all this nightmare nonsense was put out of his poor little head. I took his hand and held it firmly; we went through the dining-room. Nothing could have looked more comfortable and less ghostly. For the lights were still burning on the table, and the flowers in their silver bowls, some wine gleaming in the glasses, the fruit and pretty dishes, made a pleasant glow of colour. It certainly seemed a curiously sudden contrast when we found ourselves in the gallery beyond, cold and unillumined, save by the pale moonlight streaming through the unshuttered windows. For the door closed with a bang as we passed through--the gallery _was_ a draughty place. Dormy's hold tightened. "Sister," he whispered, "I've shut my eyes now. You must stand with your back to the windows--between them, or else you'll think it's our own shadows--and watch." I did as he said, and I had not long to wait. It came--from the farther end, the second condemned door, whence the winding stair mounted to the attics--it seemed to begin or at least take form there. Creeping along, just as Dormy said--stealthily but steadily--right down to the other extremity of the long room. And then it grew blacker--more concentrated--and out from the vague outline came two bony hands, and, as the child had said, too, you could see that they were _feeling_--all over the upper part of the door.