n.

Helen could not see any of the corridor from the top of the flight. So she
began to creep down, determined to know for sure if there really was
something or somebody there.

Nor was she entirely unafraid now. The mysterious sounds had got upon her
nerves. Whether they were supernatural, or natural, she was determined to
solve the mystery here and now.

Half-way down the stair she halted. The sound of the ghostly step was at
the far end of the hall. But it would now return, and the girl could see
(her eyes having become used to the dim light) more than half of the
passage.

There was the usual rustling sound at the end of the passage. Then the
steady "step--put" approached.

CHAPTER XVI

FORGOTTEN

From the stair-well some little light streamed up into the darkness of the
ghost-walk. And into this dim radiance came a little old lady--her
old-fashioned crimped hair an aureole of beautiful gray--leaning lightly
on an ebony crutch, which in turn tapped the floor in accompaniment to her
clicking step--

"Step--put; step--put; step--put."

Then she was out of the range of Helen's vision again. But she turned and
came back--her silken skirts rustling, her crutch tapping in perfect
time.

This was no ghost. Although slender--ethereal--almost bird-like in her
motions--the little old lady was very human indeed. She had a pink flush
in her cheeks, and her skin was as soft as velvet. Of course there were
wrinkles; but they were beautiful wrinkles, Helen thought.

She wore black half-mitts of lace, and her old-fashioned gown was of
delightfully soft, yet rich silk. The silk was brown--not many old ladies
could have worn that shade of brown and found it becoming. Her eyes were
bright--the unseen girl saw them sparkle as she turned her head, in that
bird-like manner, from side to side.

She was a dear, doll-like old lady! Helen longed to hurry down the
remaining steps and take her in her arms.

But, instead, she crept softly back to the head of the stairs, and slipped
into her own room again. _This_ was the mystery of the Starkweather
mansion. The nightly exercise of this mysterious old lady was the
foundation for the "ghost-walk." The maids of the household feared the
supernatural; therefore they easily found a legend to explain the rustling
step of the old lady with the crutch.

And all day long the old lady kept to her room. That room must be in the
front of the house on this upper floor--shut away, i