ound himself wondering if it could
be logically called a haunted house--unless he himself was haunting it,
for there seemed to be no other there. Perhaps the apparitions would
come later, when he was dressed. Clearly it was not his uncle's
house--and yet, as he had never been inside his uncle's house, he
reflected that he ought not to be positive.

He finished dressing and sat down in an armchair with a kind of
thoughtful expectancy. But presently his curiosity became impatient of
the silence and mystery, and he ventured once more to explore the house.
Opening his bedroom door, he found himself again upon the deserted
corridor, but this time he could distinctly hear a buzz of voices from
the drawing-room below. Assured that he was near a solution of the
mystery, he rapidly descended the broad staircase and made his way to
the open door of the drawing-room. But although the sound of voices
increased as he advanced, when he entered the room, to his utter
astonishment, it was as empty as before.

Yet, in spite of his bewilderment and confusion, he was able to
follow one of the voices, which, in its peculiar distinctness and
half-perfunctory tone, he concluded must belong to the host of the
invisible assembly.

"Ah," said the voice, greeting some unseen visitor, "so glad you have
come. Afraid your engagements just now would keep you away." Then the
voice dropped to a lower and more confidential tone. "You must take down
Lady Dartman, but you will have Miss Morecamp--a clever girl--on the
other side of you. Ah, Sir George! So good of you to come. All well at
the Priory? So glad to hear it." (Lower and more confidentially.) "You
know Mrs. Monkston. You'll sit by her. A little cut up by her husband
losing his seat. Try to amuse her."

Emboldened by desperation, Paul turned in the direction of the voice.
"I am Paul Bunker," he said hesitatingly. "I'm afraid you'll think me
intrusive, but I was looking for my uncle, and"--

"Intrusive, my dear boy! The son of my near neighbor in the country
intrusive? Really, now, I like that! Grace!" (the voice turned in
another direction) "here is the American nephew of our neighbor Bunker
at Widdlestone, who thinks he is 'a stranger.'"

"We all knew of your expected arrival at Widdlestone--it was so good
of you to waive ceremony and join us," said a well-bred feminine voice,
which Paul at once assumed to belong to the hostess. "But I must find
some one for your dinner partner. Mary" (h