nd I could not sleep. The wind wailed fitfully
outside the house, while within doors and windows rattled, and on the
stairs and in the passages wandered strange and unaccountable noises,
like stealthy footsteps or stifled voices. To this dreary accompaniment,
as I lay awake in the darkness, I heard the lessons of the last few days
repeated: witness after witness rose and gave his varying testimony; and
when, before the discord and irony of it all, I bitterly repeated
Pilate's question, the smile on that dead face would rise before me, and
then I hoped again.

Between three and four the wind fell during a short space, and all
responsive noises ceased. For a few minutes reigned absolute silence,
then it was broken by two piercing cries--the cries of a woman in terror
or in pain.

They disturbed even the sleepers, it was evident; for when I reached the
end of my passage I heard opening doors, hurrying footsteps, and bells
ringing violently in the gallery. After a little the stir was increased,
presumably by servants arriving from the farther wing; but no one came
my way till Atherley himself, in his dressing-gown, went hurriedly
downstairs.

"Anything wrong?" I called as he passed me.

"Only Mrs. Molyneux's prayer has been granted."

"Of course she was bound to see it," he said next day, as we sat
together over a late breakfast. "It would have been a miracle if she had
not; but if I had known the interview was to be followed by such
unpleasant consequences I shouldn't have asked her down. I was wandering
about for hours looking for an imaginary bottle of sal-volatile Jane
described as being in her sitting-room: and Jane herself was up till
late--or rather early--this morning, trying to soothe Mrs. Molyneux, who
does not appear to have found the ghost quite such pleasant company as
she expected. Oh yes, Jane is down; she breakfasted in her own room. I
believe she is ordering dinner at this minute in the next room."

Hardly had he said the words when outside, in the hall, resounded a
prolonged and stentorian wail.

"What on earth is the matter now?" said Atherley, rising and making for
the door. He opened it just in time for us to see Mrs. Mallet go
by--Mrs. Mallet bathed in tears and weeping as I never have heard an
adult weep before or since--in a manner which is graphically and
literally described by the phrase "roaring and crying."

"Why, Mrs. Mallet! What on earth is the matter?"

"Send for Mrs. de Noel," cri