ge of--Madam, have you met Mr. Trohm?"

The question was so sudden I had not time to collect myself. But perhaps
it was not necessary that I should, for the simple affirmation I used
seemed to satisfy Mr. Gryce, who went on to say:

"It is he who first summoned us here, and it is he who has the greatest
interest in locating the source of these disappearances, yet he has seen
no child come here."

"Mr. Trohm is not a spy," said I, but the remark, happily, fell
unheeded.

"No one has," he pursued. "We must give another turn to our
suppositions."

Suddenly a silence fell upon us both. His finger ceased to lay down the
law, and my gaze, which had been searching his face inquiringly, became
fixed. At the same moment and in much the same tone of voice we both
spoke, he saying, "Humph!" and I, "Ah!" as a prelude to the simultaneous
exclamation:

"The phantom coach!"

We were so pleased with this discovery that we allowed a moment to pass
in silent contemplation of each other's satisfaction. Then he quietly
added:

"Which on the evening preceding your arrival came from the mountains and
passed into Lost Man's Lane, from which no one ever saw it emerge."

"It was no phantom," I put in.

"It was their own old coach bringing to the house a fresh victim."

This sounded so startling we both sat still for a moment, lost in the
horror of it, then I spoke:

"People living in remote and isolated quarters like this are naturally
superstitious. The Knollys family know this, and, remembering the old
legend, forbore to contradict the conclusions of their neighbors.
Loreen's emotion when the topic was broached to her is explained by this
theory."

"It is not a pleasant one, but we cannot be wrong in contemplating it."

"Not at all. This apparition, as they call it, was seen by two persons;
therefore it was no apparition but a real coach. It came from the
mountains, that is, from the Mountain Station, and it glided--ah!"

"Well?"

"Mr. Gryce, it was its noiselessness that gave it its spectral
appearance. Now I remember a petty circumstance which I dare you to
match, in corroboration of our suspicions."

"You do?"

I could not repress a slight toss of my head. "Yes, I do," I repeated.

He smiled and made the slightest of deprecatory gestures.

"You have had advantages----" he began.

"And disadvantages," I finished, determined that he should award me my
full meed of praise. "You are probably not afraid of dogs. I am