nception was grisly. Both mind and
body being rather overstrained, it filled her with something
approaching panic. No one was within call. To rouse her brother, or
Julius, she must make a tour of half the house. Again the creature
pushed against the creaking panels, and, then, panting and snoring,
began ripping away the matting from the door-sill.

The terror of the unknown is, after all, greater than that of the
known. It was improbable, though the hour was late and the night wild,
that savage beasts or cares incarnate should actually be in possession
of Dickie's disused nursery. Katherine braced herself and turned the
handle. Still the vision disclosed by the opening door was at first
sight monstrous enough. A moving mass of dirty white, low down against
the encircling darkness, bandy legs, and great grinning mouth. The
bull-dog stood up, whining, fawning upon her, thrusting his heavy head
into her hand.

"Why Camp, good old friend, what brings you here? Are you, too,
homeless to-night? But why have you deserted your master?"

And then Lady Calmady's panic fears took on another aspect. Far from
being allayed they were increased. An apprehension of something
actively evil abroad in the great, sleeping house assailed her. She
trembled from head to foot. And yet, even while she shrank and
trembled, her courage reawoke. For she perceived that as yet she need
not rank herself wholly among fashions passed and things grown
obsolete. She had her place and value still. She was wanted, she was
called for--that she knew--though by whom wanted and for what purpose
she, as yet, knew not.

The bull-dog, meanwhile, his heavy head carried low, his crooked tail
drooping, trotted slowly away into the darkness and then trotted back.
He squatted upon his haunches, looking up with anxious, bloodshot eyes.
He trotted away again, and again returned and stood waiting, his whole
aspect eloquent in its dumb appeal. He implored her to follow, and
Katherine, fetching one of the silver candlesticks from her
dressing-table, obeyed.

She followed her ugly, faithful guide across the vacant disused
nursery, and on down the uncarpeted turning staircase which opens into
the square lobby outside the Gun-Room. The diamond panes of the
staircase windows chattered in their leaded frames, and the wind
shrieked in the spouts, and angles, and carved stonework, of the inner
courtyard as she passed. The gale was at its height, loud and
insistent. Yet the