. Lips met again and again and there was no
thought of the night, of the feud, the escapade, the Renwood ghost--or
of aught save the two warm living human bodies that had found each
other.

The storm, swerving with the capricious mountain winds, suddenly swept
their refuge with sheets of water. Randolph Shaw threw the raincoats
over his companion and both laughed hysterically at their plight,
suddenly remembered.

"We can't stay here," he shouted.

"We can't go out into it," she cried. "Where are we?"

"Renwood's," he called back. Their position was untenable. He was
drenched; the raincoats protected her as she crouched back into the
most remote corner. Looking about he discovered a small door leading
to the cellar. It opened the instant he touched the latch. "Come,
quick," he cried, lifting her to her feet. "In here--stoop! I have the
light. This is the cellar. I'll have to break down a door leading to
the upper part of the house, but that will not be difficult. Here's an
axe or two. Good Lord, I'm soaked!"

"Whe--where are we going?" she gasped, as he drew her across the
earthern floor.

"Upstairs. It's comfortable up there." They were at the foot of the
narrow stairway. She held back.

"Never! It's the--the haunted house! I can't--Randolph."

"Pooh! Don't be afraid. I'm with you, dearest."

"I know," she gulped. "But you have only one arm. Oh, I can't!"

"It's all nonsense about ghosts. I've slept here twenty times,
Penelope. People have seen my light and my shadow, that's all. I'm a
pretty substantial ghost."

"Oh, dear! What a disappointment. And there are no spooks? Not even
Mrs. Renwood?"

"Of course she may come back, dear, but you'd hardly expect a
respectable lady spook to visit the place with me stopping here. Even
ghosts have regard for conventionalities. She _couldn't_--"

"How much more respectable than I," Penelope murmured plaintively.

"Forgive me," he implored.

"I would--only you are so wet."

The door above was locked, but Shaw swung the axe so vigorously that
any but a very strong-nerved ghost must have been frightened to death
once more.

"It's my house, you know," he explained from the top step. "There we
are! Come up, Penelope. The fort is yours."

She followed him into the hall above. In silence they walked along the
bare floors through empty rooms until at last he opened a door in what
proved to be the left wing. To her surprise, this room was comfortably
furnished. The