Yes, the wooing of Milly Fauncey had been almost too easy, and he knew
that he was not likely to be so fortunate this time. But now the prize
to be won was such an infinitely greater prize!

He told himself that he mustn't be impatient. This, after all, was only
the second day of Helen Brabazon's stay at Wyndfell Hall. Perhaps it was
a good thing that her cantankerous old uncle had betaken himself off.
Misfortune had a way of turning itself into good fortune where Lionel
Varick was concerned; for he was bold and brave, as well as always ready
to seize opportunity at the flood.

When, at last, they had almost finished their tour of the house, and he
was showing her into the haunted room, she clapped her hands
delightedly. "This is exactly the sort of room in which one would expect
to meet a ghost!" she exclaimed.

The room into which she had just been ushered had, in very truth, a
strange, unused, haunted look. Very different from that into which Helen
had just peeped. For Miss Farrow's present bed-chamber, with its
tapestried and panelled walls, its red brocaded curtains, and carved oak
furniture, the whole lit up by a bright, cheerful fire, was very cosy.
But here, in the haunted room next door, the fire was only lit at night,
and now one of the windows over the moat was open, and it was very cold.

Helen went over to the open window. She leant over and stared down into
the dark, sullen-looking water.

"How beautiful this place must be in summer!" she exclaimed.

"I hope you will come and see it, this next summer."

Varick spoke in measured tones, but deep in his heart he not only hoped,
but he was determined on something very different--namely, that the girl
now turning her bright, guileless, eager face to his would then be
installed at Wyndfell Hall as his wife, and therefore as mistress of the
wonderful old house. And this hope, this imperious determination, turned
his mind suddenly to a less agreeable subject of thought--that is, to
Bubbles Dunster.

Had he known what he now knew about Bubbles' curious gift, he would not
have included her in his Christmas party. He felt that she might become
a disturbing element in the pleasant gathering. Also he was beginning to
suspect that she did not like him, and it was a disagreeable, unnerving
suspicion in his present mood.

"What do you think of Bubbles Dunster?" he asked.

"Oh, I like her!" cried Helen. "I think she's a wonderful girl!" And
then her voice to