Margaret had arranged to drive over to have tea with some friends of hers that afternoon, and in consequence Hugh and I refreshed ourselves at the club-house after our game, and it was already dusk when for the third day in succession I passed homewards by the whitewashed cottage. But to-night I had no sense of it being subtly occupied; it stood mournfully desolate, as is the way of untenanted houses, and no light nor semblance of such gleamed from its windows. Hugh, to whom I had told the odd impressions I had received there, gave them a reception as flippant as that which he had accorded to the memories of the night, and he was still being humorous about them when we came to the door of the house. “A psychic disturbance, old boy,” he said. “Like a cold in the head. Hullo, the door’s locked.” He rang and rapped, and from inside came the noise of a turned key and withdrawn bolts. “What’s the door locked for?” he asked his servant who opened it. The man shifted from one foot to the other. “The bell rang half an hour ago, sir,” he said, “and when I came to answer it there was a man standing outside, and----” “Well?” asked Hugh. “I didn’t like the looks of him, sir,” he said, “and I asked him his business. He didn’t say anything, and then he must have gone pretty smartly away, for I never saw him go.” “Where did he seem to go?” asked Hugh, glancing at me. “I can’t rightly say, sir. He didn’t seem to go at all. Something seemed to brush by me.” “That’ll do,” said Hugh rather sharply. * * * * * Margaret had not come in from her visit, but when soon after the crunch of the motor wheels was heard Hugh reiterated his wish that nothing should be said to her about the impression which now, apparently, a third person shared with us. She came in with a flush of excitement on her face. “Never laugh at my planchette again,” she said. “I’ve heard the most extraordinary story from Maud Ashfield--horrible, but so frightfully interesting.” “Out with it,” said Hugh. “Well, there was a gardener here,” she said. “He used to live at that little cottage by the foot-bridge, and when the family were up in London he and his wife used to be caretakers and live here.” Hugh’s glance and mine met: then he turned away. I knew, as certainly as if I was in his mind, that his thoughts were identical with my own.