woman. "I can see her quite plainly. It's her ghost-her ghost! Ah! She's looking at me!"

She gave a great sob of horror and terror, and clung to the balusters, her starting eyes still fixed on Kyra.

"There is no one there," said Mrs. Froyte, in the same tone, half impatient, half soothing. "You've been dreaming; you've had the nightmare. I can see nothing!"

Unable to remain motionless any longer, Kyra moved slightly. Again the silent house was rent by an awful scream, and, throwing up her arms wildly, Mrs. Lambert fell to the ground in a swoon. Mrs. Froyte opened the front door and beckoned to Kyra.

"Quick! Quick for your life!" she panted, and with one noiseless bound Kyra reached the hall and passed out into the darkness.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE darkness into which Kyra had gone passed at last, and the dawn broke. Mrs. Lambert, who had refused to return to her bed, sat over the kitchen fire, shivering as if she were cold. She crouched in a silence broken now and again by a kind of shivering moan. Mrs. Froyte had made some tea, and had almost forced the woman to take some. It seemed as if she had very nearly collapsed under the shock and the fainting-fit that had followed, and when she took her eyes from the fire it was to glance round fearfully, as if she were afraid that she should again see the vision which had appeared on the stairs.

"You won't mind if I go directly after the funeral, Mrs. Froyte?" she asked, in a shaky voice."You won't stay, I suppose? I shouldn't, if I were you. It isn't a fit place. She fooked round as if she were listening. "I couldn't stop if you wanted me ever so badly, I couldn't, indeed! I don't know what's come to me; I was never taken like it before, and I've had most serious and painful cases. I suppose it was the shock of her dying so suddenly. You see, I'd got fond of her; no one could help it; she was such a gentle, sweet-tempered young lady; so patient and pleasant-spoken and grateful." She broke down for a moment and cried in a fretful, overwrought fashion. "And when I saw her standing there looking up at me-"

When you fancied you saw her, you mean," said Mrs. Froyte, coldly.

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Yes, of course it was only fancy," admitted Mrs. Lam

bert; "but no fancy was ever more real-like.

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I shall never

laugh at them spiritualists again." She shuddered; then she said, peevishly: Isn't there anyone coming to the funeral: surely there must be some relatives, someone besides us two and that doctor-boy!"

"I've wired for my husband," said Mrs. Froyte. "He will be here this morning. You can go directly after the funeral; and I am not surprised that you should want to do 80. You are suffering from nervous prostration, and, if I were you, I should take a rest, go somewhere for a change, and try to forget-❞

Mrs. Lambert shivered.

"Peo

"That's easier said than done," she said, moodily. ple don't so soon forget when they've seen what I saw. I only hope and trust I sha'n't be haunted by the poor young thing! At any rate, I know we did everything that could be done for her; that's one comfort. I don't know what Mr. Stracey will say when he hears of it!"

James Froyte arrived a little before noon. His puffy face was white and there were dark shadows under his eyes, and for several moments he stood in the room with downcast eyes, as if he were afraid of meeting the sombre ones of his wife.

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"This is awful," he said at last, huskily. "I can't believe, realise it. What was she doing here? Why didn't you let me know you were here with her? You told me you were with your cousin Jane-why didn't you write or telegraph when-when she was ill?"

Mrs. Froyte eyed him with grim irony.

He brought

"You'd better ask Stracey why she was here. her: she was ill and wanted a change and rest, he said. I followed him here one day, unknown to him. She died very suddenly. You will know as well as I why I did not write to you. But ask Stracey.'

Where is he?" he enquired, sinking into a chair and clutching its arms as he clutched the arms of his own chair at home.

Mrs. Froyte shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. Abroad, he said, didn't he?"

"It-it will be a terrible shock for him," he muttered, with aswift and furtive upward glance at her.

"Will it?" she retorted, with grim impassiveness.

"Stra

cey is not easily shocked. Did you see Doctor Graham, by any chance, before you started; did you tell him?”

He shook his head.

"No; I saw no one; besides, what-what would have been the good? It was too late."

"Yes," she said, as impassively as before. "It would have been too late. I will get you something to eat, James." "No, no-give me some whiskey, brandy, something to drink; nothing to eat." He looked from the window and shuddered. "What an awful place! I don't understand why Stracey brought her here-Mrs. Malcolm-"

"You'd better ask him," she said again; then she paused as she left the room and looked intently at him over her shoulder. "No; better not, perhaps. No, I should ask Stracey nothing."

When the funeral was over and they returned to the house, and the young doctor, after consuming with covert eagerness the usual cold meats and sherry, had taken his departure, Mrs. Lambert announced her intention of leaving.

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"I'm very sorry, sir," she said, with an air of gloomy resolution, but I couldn't stay another night in this place if one were to offer me a hundred pounds. I start at every sound, and my head- Ah!" She broke off with something like a shriek. "What's that? See there, now, how bad I am! It's only a knock at the door!"

She went to open it and uttered another faint scream; for Stracey stood on the step.

"How do you do, Mrs. Lambert?" he said, in his suave, bland voice. "I'm afraid I startled you.

The husband and wife exchanged glances as they heard his voice, and James Froyte half rose from his chair, but sat down again, breathing heavily; but Mrs. Froyte stood in the centre of the room, calm and self-possessed. Mrs. Lambert had burst into tears, and, asking her what was the matter, Stracey passed her and entered the dining-room.

He started at sight of the two awaiting him, and his dark eyes flashed round the room as if in search of another person. "Father! Mother!" he exclaimed. "What-" Then he noticed their pallor and their black clothes and his face went almost as white as their own. "What is the matter, why are you here? How-" he demanded. "What is the matter with the woman?"

James Froyte moistened his lips but seemed to find speech impossible, and Mrs. Froyte went and silently closed the door. "Where have you been, Stracey?" she asked.

There was a new note in her voice, and he was quick to notice it; and he glanced at her sharply and suspiciously as he answered:

1

"Abroad, I have only just returned. Where-where is Kyra?"

"Kyra is dead," replied Mrs. Froyte, impassively.

He stood for a moment as if he had not heard her, then his hand stole out to the table and he clutched it, and, standing speechlessly, looked from one to the other with a strange expression on his face, as if the shock were tempered by a sinister satisfaction and still more sinister triumph.

"Dead! Kyra dead!" he said, thickly. "It isn't true, it can't be true!"

James Froyte shot a glance at him, then stared at the carpet, and Mrs. Froyte answered, with downcast eyes:

"It is true. No wonder you are surprised." His eyelids quivered, but he did not raise them. "She died quite suddenly; was ill only a few days."

"What was it?" he asked, almost inaudibly.

She was silent for a moment, then she replied, slowly: "Failure of the heart."

"The certificate says that-there was a certificate?" he asked, sharply, almost involuntarily.

"Yes: she could not have been buried without it, could she?"

"Buried! Then she is buried?" He drew a long breath and sank into a chair, holding the table until he had got his seat. "When?"

"This morning. You came just too late. We could not let you know; we did not know where you were.

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He was silent while one could count twenty, then he said, almost inaudibly:

"Kyra dead-and buried! My God, I cannot realise it! Was she conscious-the doctor-you were here then-when she died?"

He did not ask her how she came to be there, but took it for granted, with his usual sang-froid, that she had followed him.

Mrs. Froyte inclined her head.

"Yes. And the doctor. She had been ill for a few days, and he was in attendance."

He drew another long breath of relief, satisfaction.

"I am glad," he said. "It was fortunate you were here-"

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Why did you bring her here?" James Froyte asked, fearfully and hoarsely.

Stracey shot a glance at his white, puffy face.

"Mrs. Malcolm and she did not take to each other. I brought

her here for a few days' rest and quiet, for the change. There is no need to go over it all; it is too painful-for all of us. Mrs. Lambert knocked at the door. She had her outdoor things on.

"I'm going, sir-ma'am," she said, rather shamefacedly. Mrs. Froyte did not attempt to stay her, but shook hands, and Stracey followed her into the passage.

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"This is a terrible business-so sudden! My poor girl!" He put his hands to his eyes and turned away, and Mrs. Lambert began to whimper. It must have been a-fearful shock for you! As for me and my poor people-" His voice choked; but he seemed to master his emotion by a great effort. "You must let me know how much I am indebted to you, Mrs. Lambert. I am fully sensible that no money can repay your kindness and care

Mrs. Lambert broke down.

"I got so fond of her!" she said, struggling with her sobs. "The death was bad enough, coming so sudden; but what happened to me afterwards was worse

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Happened afterwards?" he asked, sharply. "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Lambert shook her head.

"Of course, it was only my fancy, sir; my nerves must have been overwrought and given way-me, as has never broken down before, and ever so much worse cases!-but, I see the poor, dear young lady, that is, her ghost-" Stracey stared at her, then his lips curved with a swiftly passing smile and sneer of contempt. "Of course, it was only fancy, but the shock- But, there, sir; I don't want to harrow up your feelings; you must be suffering quite enough without thatIt's a little over ten pounds, sir," she added, as Stracey took out his purse.

He pressed two ten-pound notes into her hand: he was in the mood to give her five times the amount, but he was too cautious to do so.

"Please accept that, Mrs. Lambert," he said. "I need not say that if ever we require a devoted, trustworthy nurse, I shall remember and send for you.

James Froyte had left the dining-room, and Stracey, when he returned, found Mrs. Froyte alone and standing where he had left her. She held something in her hand behind her back.

"I suppose we can leave here at once?" she said, coldly.

He nodded absently, and, going to the sideboard, got a glass, and took some brandy from the decanter on the table.