tain it is they
slew him, for in a space they came forth to the door bearing his head,
and they showed it to the people, who answered with a great shout. But
the cousins went back, barring the door again; and again, when but a few
minutes had passed, they came forth, and opened the door, and the elder
of them, being now by the traitor's death become lord, bade the people
in and made a great feast for them. But the head of Stefan none saw
again, nor did any see his body; but the body and head were gone,
whither none know saving the noble blood of the Stefanopouloi; for
utterly they disappeared, and the secret was securely kept."

I read this passage aloud, translating as I went. At the end Denny drew
a breath.

"Well, if there aren't ghosts in this house, there ought to be," he
remarked. "What the deuce did those rascals do with the old gentleman,
Charlie?"

"It says 'they went beneath the earth.'"

"The cellar," suggested Hogvardt, who had a prosaic mind.

"But they wouldn't leave the body in the cellar," I objected; "and if,
as this fellow says, they were only away a few minutes, they couldn't
have dug a grave for it. And then it says that they 'there in the earth
found the lord'!"

"It would have been more interesting," said Denny, "if they'd told
Alexander a bit more about it. However, I suppose he consoles himself
with his chant again?"

"He does. It follows immediately on what I've read, and so the thing
ends." And I sat looking at the little yellow volume. "Where did you
find it, Denny?" I said.

"Oh, on a shelf in the corner of the hall, between the Bible and a Life
of Byron."

I got up and walked back to the hall. I looked round. Euphrosyne was not
there. I inspected the hall door; it was still locked on the inside. I
mounted the stairs, and called at the door of her room; when no answer
came I pushed it open and took the liberty of glancing round; she was
not there. I called again, for I thought she might have passed along the
way over the hall and reached the roof, as she had done before. This
time I called loudly. Silence followed for a moment. Then came an
answer, in a hurried, rather apologetic tone, "Here I am." But then the
answer came, not from the direction that I had expected, but from the
hall. And looking over the balustrade, I saw Euphrosyne sitting in the
armchair.

"This," said I, going down-stairs, "taken in conjunction with this," and
I patted One-eyed Alexander's book, which I hel