Oh, Miss Mary! you would 'ave it
from the first that poor Miss Aggie 'ad made away with herself; an', of
course, Miss Bessie took the notion from you: Only Master--Mister John
stood out,--and--and I'd 'ave taken my Bible oath you was making away
with yourself last night."

Miss Mary leaned towards me, one finger on my sleeve.

"If going to Holmescroft kills me," she said, "you will have the murder
of a fellow-creature on your conscience for all eternity."

"I'll risk it," I answered. Remembering what torment the mere reflection
of her torments had cast on Holmescroft, and remembering, above all, the
dumb Thing that filled the house with its desire to speak, I felt that
there might be worse things.

Baxter was amazed at the proposed visit, but at a nod from that terrible
woman went off to make arrangements. Then I sent a telegram to M'Leod
bidding him and his vacate Holmescroft for that afternoon. Miss Mary
should be alone with her dead, as I had been alone.

I expected untold trouble in transporting her, but to do her justice,
the promise given for the journey, she underwent it without murmur,
spasm, or unnecessary word. Miss Bessie, pressed in a corner by the
window, wept behind her veil, and from time to time tried to take
hold of her sister's hand. Baxter wrapped himself in his newly found
happiness as selfishly as a bridegroom, for he sat still and smiled.

"So long as I know that Aggie didn't make away with herself," he
explained, "I tell you frankly I don't care what happened. She's as hard
as a rock--Mary. Always was. She won't die."

We led her out on to the platform like a blind woman, and so got her
into the fly. The half-hour crawl to Holmescroft was the most racking
experience of the day. M'Leod had obeyed my instructions. There was no
one visible in the house or the gardens; and the front door stood open.

Miss Mary rose from beside her sister, stepped forth first, and entered
the hall.

"Come, Bessie," she cried.

"I daren't. Oh, I daren't."

"Come!" Her voice had altered. I felt Baxter start. "There's nothing to
be afraid of."

"Good heavens!" said Baxter. "She's running up the stairs. We'd better
follow."

"Let's wait below. She's going to the room."

We heard the door of the bedroom I knew open and shut, and we waited in
the lemon-coloured hall, heavy with the scent of flowers.

"I've never been into it since it was sold," Baxter sighed. "What a
lovely, restful plate it is! Poor Aggie