But the wire guard had been ruthlessly torn away from the fire now, and the sole inmate of that luxurious room was a creature that might have struck terror to a heart even more desperate than was the lawyer’s as he gazed into the room. “My God, what is it? Can it be a human creature, or is it a fiend from the nether world?” he asked himself. He might well ask himself the question. The creature on which he gazed was a small, misshapen thing, with such horribly distorted features, as caused a shudder of loathing to run through Mr. Rodney. The crooked form was clothed with an almost barbaric splendor of apparel--in crimson satin, embroidered in golden thread, while the fire of priceless diamonds flashed from the yellow arms and neck, and upon the tangled braids of coarse, black hair that fell down her back. She--for he had concluded that it was a woman from the long, black hair, and the womanly apparel--had snatched a fire-brand from the glowing grate, and was now running about the room, uttering discordant shrieks of fiendish glee, while with a ruthless, vandal hand she held the flaming brand now here, now there, against the satin hangings and the filmy lace curtains, the lambrequins, the silken fringe of the chair-covers, until all became a smoldering mass, through which small jets of lurid flame began to creep weirdly. Mr. Rodney gazed for a moment like one fascinated upon this horrible scene, and then he made a bold and desperate dash into the room. He ran up behind the horrible fire-fiend, threw his arm over her shoulder, and wrenched the flaming brand from her clasp, threw it down upon the floor, and trampled it into a black, charred mass. Then he was obliged to turn round and defend himself. For the dreadful woman had thrown herself fiercely upon him, and was choking his life out with her long, talon-like fingers and sharp nails, that held his throat in a vise-like pressure. Half strangled, he made a supreme effort against the furious maniac, and succeeded in tearing her hands away from their murderous hold. She was wonderfully strong and agile, but he held her firmly, and wild screams of rage issued from her distorted lips. He recognized the sounds as those that had so frightened him in the earlier part of the evening. “This, then, was the ghost of Delaney House!” he thought grimly. “My God what can this terrible creature be to Oran Delaney, and does Aline know of her existence?” He held her firmly by both hands while she bit and tore and raved in a frenzy of maniacal fury. He was perplexed what to do with her. He knew that she was a dangerous creature, but he would not have harmed her for the world. She was already too terribly blasted in body and mind. But he longed to make some disposal of her that he might make some effort to quench the smoldering flames that already filled the room with a thick and suffocating black vapor.