And through the door open to the hall came at that moment the sound of cheerful laughing voices from the drawing-room. Some one was coming out. It seemed impossible, incredible, that within a few feet of the matter-of-fact pleasant material life, this horrible inexplicable drama should be going on, as doubtless it still was. Of the two I was now more upset than my little brother. I was older and "took in" more. He, boy-like, was in a sense triumphant at having proved himself correct and no coward, and though he was still pale, his eyes shone with excitement and a queer kind of satisfaction. But before we had done more than look at each other, a figure appeared at the open doorway. It was Sophy. "Leila," she said, "mamma wants to know what you are doing with Dormy? He is to go to bed at once. We saw you go out of the room after him, and then a door banged. Mamma says if you are playing with him it's very bad for him so late at night." Dormy was very quick. He was still holding my hand, and he pinched it to stop my replying. "Rubbish!" he said. "I am speaking to Leila quietly, and she is coming up to my room while I undress. Good night, Sophy." "Tell mamma Dormy really wants me," I added, and then Sophy departed. "We musn't tell _her_, Leila," said the boy. "She'd have 'sterics." "Whom shall we tell?" I said, for I was beginning to feel very helpless and upset. "Nobody, to-night," he replied sensibly. "You _mustn't_ go in there," and he shivered a little as he moved his head towards the gallery; "you're not fit for it, and they'd be wanting you to. Wait till the morning and then I'd--I think I'd tell Philip first. You needn't be frightened to-night, sister. It won't stop you sleeping. It didn't me the time I saw it before." He was right. I slept dreamlessly. It was as if the intense nervous strain of those few minutes had utterly exhausted me. PART II. Phil is our soldier brother. And there is nothing fanciful about _him_! He is a rock of sturdy common-sense and unfailing good nature. He was the very best person to confide our strange secret to, and my respect for Dormy increased. We did tell him--the very next morning. He listened very attentively, only putting in a question here and there, and though, of course, he was incredulous--had I not been so myself?--he was not mocking. "I am glad you have told no one else," he said, when we had related the whole as circumstantially as possible. "You see mother is not very strong yet, and it would be a pity to bother father, just when he's taken this place and settled it all. And for goodness' sake, don't let a breath of it get about among the servants; there'd be the--something to pay, if you did." "I won't tell anybody," said Dormy. "Nor shall I," I added. "Sophy is far too excitable, and if she knew, she would certainly tell Nannie." Nannie is our old nurse.