had come up that passage. So she went on with her dim light, almost
feeling her way, her heart beating so loud that she fancied she could
hear it. The far-off faint crying went on and led her. Sometimes it
stopped for a moment or so and then began again. Was this the right
corner to turn? She stopped and thought. Yes it was. Down this passage
and then to the left, and then up two broad steps, and then to the right
again. Yes, there was the tapestry door.

She pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her, and she stood
in the corridor and could hear the crying quite plainly, though it was
not loud. It was on the other side of the wall at her left and a few
yards farther on there was a door. She could see a glimmer of light
coming from beneath it. The Someone was crying in that room, and it was
quite a young Someone.

So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and there she was standing
in the room!

It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it. There was a
low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and a night light burning by the
side of a carved four-posted bed hung with brocade, and on the bed was
lying a boy, crying fretfully.

Mary wondered if she was in a real place or if she had fallen asleep
again and was dreaming without knowing it.

The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivory and he seemed to
have eyes too big for it. He had also a lot of hair which tumbled over
his forehead in heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller. He
looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was crying more as if he were
tired and cross than as if he were in pain.

Mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand, holding her
breath. Then she crept across the room, and as she drew nearer the
light attracted the boy's attention and he turned his head on his pillow
and stared at her, his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed
immense.

[Illustration: "'WHO ARE YOU?--ARE YOU A GHOST?'"--_Page 157_]

"Who are you?" he said at last in a half-frightened whisper. "Are you a
ghost?"

"No, I am not," Mary answered, her own whisper sounding half frightened.
"Are you one?"

He stared and stared and stared. Mary could not help noticing what
strange eyes he had. They were agate gray and they looked too big for
his face because they had black lashes all round them.

"No," he replied after waiting a moment or so. "I am Colin."

"Who is Colin?" she faltered.

"I am Colin Craven. Who are you?"