. The gray hat with the long curling plume shaded the face, and
so obscured it that I should hardly have recognized it as June's had it
not been for the thick wheel of bright, red-brown hair on each side
bunching out under the hat exactly as June had worn her hair that year.
A long, thin scarf filmed like a cloud round the slowly moving figure,
looped over the arms, which waved gracefully as if the spirit-form swam
in air rather than walked. There was an illusive glitter of rings--just
such rings as June had worn: one emerald, one diamond. A dark streak
across the ice-white throat showed her famous black pearls;
and--strangest thing of all--the green light which glimmered through
filmy folds of scarf was born apparently in a glittering emerald brooch.

At first the vision (which might have come through the wall of the room,
for all we could tell) floated toward Robert. None save spirit-eyes
could have made him out distinctly in the darkness that was lit only by
the small green gleam. But I fancied that he always sat in the same seat
for these seances; he had taken his chair in a way so matter of course.
Therefore the spirit would know where to find him!

Within a few feet of distance, however, the form paused, and swayed as
if undecided. "She has seen that there are others in the room besides
Robert and the medium," I thought. "Will she be angry? Will she vanish?"

Hardly had I time to finish the thought, however, when the electricity
was switched on with a click. The light flooding the room dazzled me for
a second, but in the bright blur I saw that Jim Courtenaye had seized
the gray figure. All ghostliness was gone from it. A woman was
struggling with him in dreadful silence--a tall, slim woman with June
Dana's red-bronze hair, June Dana's gray dress and hat and scarf.

She writhed like a snake in Jim's merciless grasp, but she kept her head
bent not to show her face, till suddenly in some way her hat was knocked
off. With it--caught by a hatpin, perhaps--went the gorgeous, bunched
hair.

"A wig!" I heard myself cry. And at the same instant Joyce gasped out
"_Opal!_"

Yes, it was Opal, disguised as June, in the gray dress and hat and
scarf, with black pearls and emeralds all copied from the portrait--and
the haunting fragrance of roses that had been June's.

The likeness was enough to deceive June's nearest and dearest in that
dimmest of dim lights which was like the ghost of a light, veiled with
all those chiff