wild shriek from the waxen countenance, the hollow
burning eyes, the fleshless, grinning lips; recoiled, staggered, and
fled back moaning along the corridor. The gray figure dropped its veil
and darted in pursuit. Peggy, running to the door, saw them vanish
around the corner; then she returned, to find Lobelia fallen into a dead
faint, her head hanging over the side of the bed.

As she bent over her anxiously, rubbing her hands and trying to rouse
her, a single board creaked in the corridor; next moment the gray figure
entered again, this time quietly and without hurry. The veil was thrown
back, revealing a well-known face. The hideous death's head was now
carried in the hand.

"Sorry if I alarmed you, Innocent!" said Grace Wolfe. "What in the name
of unreason are you doing here?"

"Oh, Grace, she has fainted!" cried Peggy. "Help me! Bring some water,
do!"

Grace vanished again, and was back in two minutes with water and
smelling-salts. As they bent over the unconscious girl, bathing her
temples and holding the salts to her nose, a few hurried sentences were
exchanged.

"What was it? What have you there, Grace?"

[Illustration: "'OH, GRACE, SHE HAS FAINTED!'"]

"Oh, nothing; merely Colney's skull; not her own, you understand, but
that of her charmer."

"But--but the eyes glared! I saw them glare, like fire."

"Phosphorus, my sweet babe! Hast no chemistry to thy name? 'Twere well
to mend thy ways."

"And why--what were you doing, Grace? Oh, see what you have done! Look
at this poor child, and tell me why you came to play such pranks in her
room."

Peggy's voice was stern enough. She forgot her love and admiration for
Grace; she only saw what seemed like wanton cruelty toward a forlorn and
helpless creature, and her blood was up.

Grace shrugged her shoulders.

"I am sorry," she said. "I am even very sorry, Innocent. What more would
you have? I didn't mean to come in; indeed, I had no thought of the
little creature at all. I had a vow that the next time that woman looked
through my keyhole she should repent it. I think she did. If she does it
again, I'll shoot her; I've just told her so."

"Why--how did you know? What did she do?"

"Oh, child, I can't always tell you how I know things. I feel them in my
bones. This is full moon, and it was borne in upon me that she thought I
would be up to something to-night, and would be upon the watch; so I
went on the watch, too. I arranged a pretty scene of confusi