' and with that the dobby lifts its
neaf, and Tom saw there was a red light round horse and man, like the
glow of a peat fire. And says Tom, 'In the name o' God, ye'll let me
pass;' and with the word the gooast draws itsel' doun, all a-creaked,
like a man wi' a sudden pain; and Tom Ettles took to his heels more deed
than alive."

They had approached their heads, and the story had sunk to that
mysterious murmur that thrills the listener, when in the brief silence
that followed they heard a low odd laugh near the door.

In that direction each lady looked aghast, and saw Feltram sitting
straight up in the bed, with the white bandage in his hand, and as it
seemed, for one foot was below the coverlet, near the floor, about to
glide forth.

Mrs. Bligh, uttering a hideous shriek, clutched Mrs. Wale, and Mrs.
Wale, with a scream as dreadful, gripped Mrs. Bligh; and quite
forgetting their somewhat formal politeness, they reeled and tugged,
wrestling towards the window, each struggling to place her companion
between her and the 'dobby,' and both uniting in a direful peal of
yells.

This was the uproar which had startled Sir Bale from his dream, and was
now startling the servants from theirs.

CHAPTER XIII

The Mist on the Mountain

Doctor Torvey was sent for early next morning, and came full of wonder,
learning and scepticism. Seeing is believing, however; and there was
Philip Feltram living, and soon to be, in all bodily functions, just as
usual.

"Upon my soul, Sir Bale, I couldn't have believed it, if I had not seen
it with my eyes," said the Doctor impressively, while sipping a glass of
sherry in the 'breakfast parlour,' as the great panelled and pictured
room next the dining-room was called. "I don't think there is any
similar case on record--no pulse, no more than the poker; no
respiration, by Jove, no more than the chimney-piece; as cold as a lead
image in the garden there. Well, you'll say all that might possibly be
fallacious; but what will you say to the cadaveric stiffness? Old Judy
Wale can tell you; and my friend Marcella--Monocula would be nearer the
mark--Mrs. Bligh, she knows all those common, and I may say up to this,
infallible, signs of death, as well as I do. There is no mystery about
them; they'll depose to the literality of the symptoms. You heard how
they gave tongue. Upon my honour, I'll send the whole case up to my old
chief, Sir Hervey Hansard, to London. You'll hear what a noise it wi