?" she asked jocularly.

"A ghost must be hard put to it when he shrieks," observed Bouchard,
glaring from one to the other.

"It's all very well for you to make fun of me because you have the
advantage of an education," said Minna to Marta, "but you
yourself--you--"

"Yes, I did hear what sounded like moaning voices," admitted Marta
rather sheepishly. "But of course it was imagination. Now we have a man
with nerve enough to go into the dungeons, we'll lay this ridiculous
psychological bugaboo at once; that is, if you have the nerve!" She
arched her brows in challenging scrutiny of Bouchard, while her eyes
twinkled at the prospect of adventure. "I thought I had, myself, but
before I got to the dungeons the clammy air wilted it and I was rubbing
my eyes to keep from seeing all kinds of apparitions."

She puzzled Bouchard, she was so facile, so ready, so many-sided. But
the more she puzzled him the stronger became his conviction of her
guilt. He guessed that all this talk was only a prelude to some trick to
keep him out of the tunnel. Poor at speech at best, slightly fussed by
her candid good humor and teasing, he hesitated as to his next remark.
He was going to be short with her in stating that he would go into the
tunnel immediately, when she took the words out of his mouth.

"This way, please. I'm all impatience. I only wish that you had
suggested it before."

As they passed out of the room Minna leaned against the wall, exhausted
and wonder-struck.

"Miss Galland is beyond me!" she thought. "Does she think those hawk
eyes will miss that little button of the panel door?"

"We'll need a lantern," said Marta as she took up the one she had been
using from a corner of the tool room; while Bouchard, slowly turning his
head like some automaton, was examining every detail of floor and wall,
spades, hoes, and weeders, for a hidden significance. The lantern was
still hot, and Marta's finger smarted with a burn, but she did not
twitch. She was so keyed up that she felt capable of walking over
red-hot coals, while she joked about ghosts. "There!" she exclaimed,
after the lantern was lighted. "This is going to be great sport. Ghost
hunting--think of that! We might have made a ghost party Too bad we
didn't think of it in time. Yes, it's a pity to be so exclusive about
it. Even now we might send for General Westerling and some of the other
staff-officers."

She paused and looked at Bouchard questioningly, perhaps challeng