imself along the corridor,
and with almost superhuman strides, disappeared downstairs. A moment
later, and the clashing of the hall door told us he was in the open air.
A breathless silence fell on us, and for some seconds we were all too
frightened to move. My husband was the first to pull himself together.

"'Come along!' he cried, gripping one of the trembling servants by the
arm. 'Come along instantly! We must keep him in sight at all costs,'
and, bidding me remain where I was, he raced downstairs.

"After a long search he eventually discovered Mr Vercoe lying at full
length on the grass--insensible.

"For some weeks our friend's condition was critical--on the top of a
violent shock to the system, sufficient in itself to endanger life, he
had taken a severe chill, which resulted in double pneumonia. However,
thanks to a bull-dog constitution, typically English, he recovered, and
we then begged him to give us an account of all that had happened.

"'I cannot!' he said. 'My one desire is to forget everything that
happened on that awful night.'

"He was obdurate, and our curiosity was, therefore, doomed to remain
unsatisfied. Both my husband and I, however, felt quite sure that the
image of Buddha was at the bottom of the mischief, and, as there chanced
just then to be an English doctor staying at a neighbouring chateau, who
was on his way to China, we entrusted the image to him, on the
understanding that he would place it in a Buddhist temple. He deceived
us, and, returning almost immediately to England, took the image with
him. We subsequently learned that within three months this man was
divorced, that he murdered a woman in Clapham Rise, and, in order to
escape arrest, poisoned himself.

"The image then found its way to a pawnbroker's establishment in
Houndsditch, which shortly afterwards was burned to the ground. Where it
is now, I cannot definitely say, but I have been told that an image of
Buddha is the sole occupant of an empty house in the Shepherd's Bush
Road--a house that is now deemed haunted. These are the experiences I
wanted to tell you, Mr O'Donnell. What do you think of them?"

"I think," I said, "they are of absorbing interest. Can you see any
association in the two hauntings--any possible connection between what
you heard and what Mr Vercoe saw?"

A look of perplexity crossed the Baroness's face. "I hardly know," she
said. "What is your opinion on that point?"

"That they are distinct--absol