s
and he was thick in the fight of rescue. He was stirred in the deeps.

"Colonel Wragge--or the sister?" I asked hurriedly, for the gong was
sounding.

"Neither directly," he said from the door. "Something far older,
something very, very remote indeed. This thing has to do with the ages,
unless I am mistaken greatly, the ages on which the mists of memory have
long lain undisturbed."

He came across the floor very quickly with a finger on his lips, looking
at me with a peculiar searchingness of gaze.

"Are you aware yet of anything--odd here?" he asked in a whisper.
"Anything you cannot quite define, for instance. Tell me, Hubbard, for I
want to know all your impressions. They may help me."

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze, for there was something in the eyes
that scared me a little. But he was so in earnest that I set my mind
keenly searching.

"Nothing yet," I replied truthfully, wishing I could confess to a real
emotion; "nothing but the strange heat of the place."

He gave a little jump forward in my direction.

"The heat again, that's it!" he exclaimed, as though glad of my
corroboration. "And how would you describe it, perhaps?" he asked
quickly, with a hand on the door knob.

"It doesn't seem like ordinary physical heat," I said, casting about in
my thoughts for a definition.

"More a mental heat," he interrupted, "a glowing of thought and desire,
a sort of feverish warmth of the spirit. Isn't that it?"

I admitted that he had exactly described my sensations.

"Good!" he said, as he opened the door, and with an indescribable
gesture that combined a warning to be ready with a sign of praise for my
correct intuition, he was gone.

I hurried after him, and found the two men waiting for me in front of
the fire.

"I ought to warn you," our host was saying as I came in, "that my
sister, whom you will meet at dinner, is not aware of the real object of
your visit. She is under the impression that we are interested in the
same line of study--folklore--and that your researches have led to my
seeking acquaintance. She comes to dinner in her chair, you know. It
will be a great pleasure to her to meet you both. We have few visitors."

So that on entering the dining-room we were prepared to find Miss Wragge
already at her place, seated in a sort of bath-chair. She was a
vivacious and charming old lady, with smiling expression and bright
eyes, and she chatted all through dinner with unfailing spontaneity.