with awakened curiosity, but with no sensation of uneasiness
or fear. What could it be?

Rising to my feet I walked across the room, stepped into the open
fireplace, and stared up the wide chimney. Some spots of rain fell on
my upturned face, but nothing was to be seen except the gray sky
overhead. I stepped back into the room, and still the muffled drone
continued, rising and falling, and then ceasing altogether.

"It must be the wind in the chimney," I thought, and moved once more
into the open hearth; but now the sound seemed in the room, and was
certainly not in the stone shaft above my head. I next opened the
window and looked out into the walled garden. No noise, however, was
to be heard there but the patter of the raindrops on the leaves of the
trees. Perplexed and rather astonished, I now crossed the floor,
opened the door, and went out into the passage, only to find it empty.
Once more, as I stood undecided what to do next, the crooning notes
fell on my ear, and I began to think that some one was playing me a
trick. It was just as I had arrived at this conclusion that I heard
Miles calling me; and a moment later, in obedience to my answering
hail, he joined me in the empty room.

"I keep hearing that funny noise," I said, "and I can't make out where
it comes from."

He made no reply, but stood at my side listening till the sound came
again, this time a long, mournful wail like that of some one in pain.
I turned, and was surprised to find that Miles's face was almost
bloodless. He slipped his arm within mine, and drew me towards the
door.

"What can it be?" I asked.

"No one will ever know for certain," he answered, speaking almost in a
whisper. "The room is haunted!"

"Haunted!" I cried, stopping short as I gained the passage. "You don't
believe in ghosts?"

"I believe in that one," he answered. "I've heard it too often to have
any doubt. That's the reason we never use the room; only mother
doesn't like it talked about, because it only frightens the servants.
People have tried to make out it was the wind; but though we've blocked
up the chimney, and have stopped every crack and hole we could find, it
makes no difference to the sound, and no one can tell from what part of
the room it comes. Besides, the story is that my great-grandfather
died there. When he was an old man he always went about humming to
himself, and making just the same sort of noise that has been heard in
the room ever