left unturned to bring the guilty man to justice. Of course it is full early to speak like this, but if you will review the case in your own mind, you will see that, up to the present, there is really nothing tangible against the man. We know that he hated your father, and that he stated his intention of doing him a mischief, and also that on the night he uttered this threat the murder was committed. From this it would appear that he is responsible for it. But how are we to prove that he got into the house? No one saw him, and there are no suspicious footprints on the flower-beds outside. At the same time we know that he did not return to the inn until a late hour, and that, when he did, he was in an excited state. Yet why should he not have gone for a walk, and might not his excitement be attributed to resentment of the treatment he received at your father's hands? I am very much afraid it would be difficult to induce a Jury to convict on evidence such as we are, so far, able to bring against him. However, we shall hear what the Coroner has to say to-morrow. In the meantime, if you do not require my presence longer, I will return to the inn. It will be necessary for me to be early astir to-morrow."

James bade him good-night, and when he had departed, went upstairs to his sister's room. He found her more composed than she had been when he had last seen her, and able to talk of the dead man without breaking down as she had hitherto done. He informed her of the detective's visit, and of the information he had received from him. It was nearly midnight when he left her. The lamp in the hall was still burning, and he descended the great staircase with the intention of telling Wilkins that he could lock up the house and retire to rest. To his astonishment, when he reached the hall, he beheld the butler standing near the dining-room door, his face as white as the paper upon which I am now writing.

"What on earth is the matter, man?" asked James, who, for the moment, was compelled to entertain the notion that the other had been drinking.

"I've seen it, sir," said Wilkins in a voice that his master scarcely recognised. "I'd never believe it could be true, but now I've witnessed it with my own eyes."

"Witnessed what?" James enquired.

"The ghost, sir," Wilkins replied; "the ghost of the Little Black Dwarf."

Jim was in no humour for such talk then, and I very much regret to say he lost his temper.

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