stopped at the door of Hugh
Ritson's room, and beckoned him to enter it with her. They went in
together, and she closed the door.

"Now tell me," she said, "what this means."

Hugh's face was very pale. His eyes had a wandering look, and when he
spoke his voice was muffled. But by an effort of his unquenchable energy
he shook off this show of concern.

"It means," he said, "that you have been the victim of a delusion."

Greta's pale face flushed. "And your mother--has she also been the
victim of a delusion?"

Hugh shrugged his shoulders, showed his teeth slightly, but made no
reply.

"Answer me--tell me the truth--be frank for once--tell me, can you
explain this mystery?"

"If I could explain it, how would it be a mystery?"

Greta felt the blood tingle to her finger-tips.

"Do you believe I have told you the truth?" she asked.

"I am sure you have."

"Do you believe I saw Paul in the lane?"

"I am sure you think you saw him."

"Do you know for certain that he went away?"

Hugh nodded his head.

"Are you sure he has not got back?"

"Quite sure."

"In short, you think what I saw was merely the result of woman's
hysteria?"

Hugh smiled through his white lips, and his staring eyes assumed a
momentary look of amused composure. He stepped to the table and fumbled
some papers.

This reminded Greta of the paper the parson had asked her to deliver. "I
ought to have given you this before," she said. "Mr. Christian sent it."

He took it without much apparent interest, put it on the table unread,
and went to the door with Greta.

The trap was standing in the court-yard, with Natt in the driver's seat,
and Brother Peter in the seat behind. The snow had ceased to fall, but
it lay several inches deep on the ground. There was the snow's dumb
silence on the earth and in the air.

Hugh helped Greta to her place, and then lifted the lamp from the trap,
and looked on the ground a few yards ahead of the horse. "There are no
footprints in the snow," he said, with a poor pretence at a
smile--"none, at least, that go from the house."

Greta herself had begun to doubt. She lacked presence of mind to ask if
there were any footprints at all except Peter's. The thing was done and
gone. It all happened three hours ago, and it was easy to suspect the
evidence of the senses.

Hugh returned the lamp to its loop. "Did you scream," he asked, "when
you saw--when you saw--it?"

Greta was beginning to feel ashamed. "I mi