se it is
something in the room," said she. "How you act! What do you mean by
talking so? Of course it is something in the room."

"Of course, it is," agreed Mrs. Brigham, looking at Caroline
suspiciously. "Of course it must be. It is only a coincidence. It
just happens so. Perhaps it is that fold of the window curtain that
makes it. It must be something in the room."

"It is not anything in the room," repeated Rebecca with obstinate
horror.

The door opened suddenly and Henry Glynn entered. He began to speak,
then his eyes followed the direction of the others'. He stood stock
still staring at the shadow on the wall. It was life size and
stretched across the white parallelogram of a door, half across the
wall space on which the picture hung.

"What is that?" he demanded in a strange voice.

"It must be due to something in the room," Mrs. Brigham said faintly.

"It is not due to anything in the room," said Rebecca again with the
shrill insistency of terror.

"How you act, Rebecca Glynn," said Caroline.

Henry Glynn stood and stared a moment longer. His face showed a gamut
of emotions--horror, conviction, then furious incredulity. Suddenly he
began hastening hither and thither about the room. He moved the
furniture with fierce jerks, turning ever to see the effect upon the
shadow on the wall. Not a line of its terrible outlines wavered.

"It must be something in the room!" he declared in a voice which seemed
to snap like a lash.

His face changed. The inmost secrecy of his nature seemed evident
until one almost lost sight of his lineaments. Rebecca stood close to
her sofa, regarding him with woeful, fascinated eyes. Mrs. Brigham
clutched Caroline's hand. They both stood in a corner out of his way.
For a few moments he raged about the room like a caged wild animal. He
moved every piece of furniture; when the moving of a piece did not
affect the shadow, he flung it to the floor, the sisters watching.

Then suddenly he desisted. He laughed and began straightening the
furniture which he had flung down.

"What an absurdity," he said easily. "Such a to-do about a shadow."

"That's so," assented Mrs. Brigham, in a scared voice which she tried
to make natural. As she spoke she lifted a chair near her.

"I think you have broken the chair that Edward was so fond of," said
Caroline.

Terror and wrath were struggling for expression on her face. Her mouth
was set, her eyes shrinking. Henry lift