head-nodding, the room gave back to him no echo or
lingering scent of horror. The little bed stood there, white and
innocent in the candlelight, the drawer still gaped, showing its
pathetic contents; the furniture, pictures, texts, and all the rest
remained in their places, harmless and undefiled as when Amy herself
had set them there.

He looked carefully round before entering; then, stepping forward, he
took the candle, closed the drawer, not without difficulty, glanced
round once more, and went out, locking the door behind him.

"A pack of nonsense!" he said, as he tossed the key on to the table
before his wife.

The theological discussion waxed late that night, and by ten o'clock
Mrs. Nugent, under the influence of an excellent supper and a touch of
stimulant, had begun to condemn her own terrors, or rather to cease to
protest when her husband condemned them for her. A number of solutions
had been proposed for the startling little incident, to none of which
did she give an unqualified denial. It was the stooping that had done
it; there had been a rush of blood to the head that had emptied the
heart and caused the sinking feeling. It was the watercress eaten in
such abundance on the previous afternoon. It was the fact that she had
passed an unoccupied morning, owing to the closing of the shop. It was
one of those things, or all of them, or some other like one of them.
Even the little maid was reassured, when she came to take away the
supper things, by the cheerful conversation of the couple, though she
registered a private vow that for no consideration under heaven would
she enter the bedroom on the right at the top of the stairs.

About half-past ten Mrs. Nugent said that she would step up to bed;
and in that direction she went, accompanied by her husband, whose
program it was presently to step round to the "Wheatsheaf" for an hour
with the landlord after the bar was shut up.

At the door on the right hand he hesitated, but his wife passed on
sternly; and as she passed into their own bedroom a piece of news came
to his mind.

"That was Mr. Laurie you heard, Mary," said he. "Jim told me he saw
him go past just after dark.... Well, I'll take the house-key with
me."

_Chapter XVI_

I

"When is he coming?" asked Mrs. Baxter with a touch of peevishness, as
she sat propped up in her tall chair before the bedroom fire.

"He will be here about six," said Maggie. "Are you sure you have
finished?"

Th