t to do as she pleases
about it. She's not a guest."

"No," Verrian assented.

"It happens very well, though, for the ghost-seeing that people don't
know she's here. After that I shall tell them. In fact, she wants me to,
for she must be on the lookout for other engagements. I am going to do
everything I can for her, and if you hear of anything--"

Verrian bowed, with a sense of something offensive in her words which he
could not logically feel, since it was a matter of business and was
put squarely on a business basis. "I should be very glad," he said,
noncommittally.

"She was sure from the first," Mrs. Westangle went on, as if there were
some relation between the fact and her request, "that you were not the
actor. She knew you were a writer."

"Oh, indeed!" Verrian said.

"I thought that if you were writing for the newspapers you might know
how to help her-"

"I'm not a newspaper writer," Verrian answered, with a resentment which
she seemed to feel, for she said, with a sort of apology in her tone:

"Oh! Well, I don't suppose it matters. She doesn't know I'm speaking to
you about that; it just came into my head. I like to help in a worthy
object, you know. I hope you'll have a good night's rest."

She turned and looked round with the air of distraction which she had
after speaking to any one, and which Verrian fancied came as much from
a paucity as from a multiplicity of suggestion in her brain, and so left
him standing. But she came back to say, "Of course, it's all between
ourselves till after to-morrow night, Mr. Verrian."

"Oh, certainly," he replied, and went vaguely off in the direction of
the billiard-room. It was light and warm there, though the place was
empty, and he decided upon a cigar as a proximate or immediate solution.
He sat smoking before the fire till the tobacco's substance had half
turned into a wraith of ash, and not really thinking of anything very
definitely, except the question whether he should be able to sleep after
he went to bed, when he heard a creeping step on the floor. He turned
quickly, with a certain expectance in his nerves, and saw nothing more
ghostly than Bushwick standing at the corner of the table and apparently
hesitating how to speak to him.

He said, "Hello!" and at this Bushwick said:

"Look here!"

"Well?" Verrian asked, looking at him.

"How does it happen you're up so late, after everybody else is wrapped
in slumber?"

"I might ask the same of you."