wered. "I simply state a fact which I cannot understand, and
which is beginning to be very painful to me. There is something here.
But whereas most so-called hauntings have been described to me as
inimical, what I am conscious of is that I am admired, loved, desired.
This is distinctly horrible to me, Murchison, distinctly horrible."

Father Murchison suddenly remembered the first evening he had spent with
Guildea, and the latter's expression almost of disgust, at the idea of
receiving warm affection from anyone. In the light of that long ago
conversation the present event seemed supremely strange, and almost like
a punishment for an offence committed by the Professor against humanity.
But, looking up at his friend's twitching face, the Father resolved not
to be caught in the net of his hideous belief.

"There can be nothing here," he said. "It's impossible."

"What does that bird imitate, then?"

"The voice of someone who has been here."

"Within the last week then. For it never spoke like that before, and
mind, I noticed that it was watching and striving to imitate something
before I went away, since the night that I went into the Park, only
since then."

"Somebody with a voice like that must have been here while you were
away," Father Murchison repeated, with a gentle obstinacy.

"I'll soon find out."

Guildea pressed the bell. Pitting stole in almost immediately.

"Pitting," said the Professor, speaking in a high, sharp voice, "did
anyone come into this room during my absence at the sea?"

"Certainly not, sir, except the maids--and me, sir."

"Not a soul? You are certain?"

"Perfectly certain, sir."

The cold voice of the butler sounded surprised, almost resentful. The
Professor flung out his hand towards the cage.

"Has the bird been here the whole time?"

"Yes, sir."

"He was not moved, taken elsewhere, even for a moment?"

Pitting's pale face began to look almost expressive, and his lips were
pursed.

"Certainly not, sir."

"Thank you. That will do."

The butler retired, moving with a sort of ostentatious rectitude. When
he had reached the door, and was just going out, his master called,

"Wait a minute, Pitting."

The butler paused. Guildea bit his lips, tugged at his beard uneasily
two or three times, and then said,

"Have you noticed--er--the parrot talking lately in a--a very peculiar,
very disagreeable voice?"

"Yes, sir--a soft voice like, sir."

"Ha! Since when?"

"Since