rule.

   “Plenty of mice,” says Cazell, looking at the old woman for corroboration.

   “Yes, in winter-time,” she says.

   “And rats?” inquires Milburd.

   “I've met 'em on the stairs,” replies the old lady, quite cheerfully.

   “Ghosts, too?” suggests Boodels. [He has become somewhat melancholy of late and says that he is studying the phenomena of “Unconscious Cerebration,” which Milburd explains is only a name for thinking of nothing without

   knowing it. Boodels, in consequence, thinks Milburd a mere buffoon.]

   “Well, my husband,” she answers in a matter-of-fact way, “my husband, he see the Ghost. . . I think it were last Christmas twelvemonth.”

   “

    The

   Ghost!” exclaims Boodels, much interested.

   “Yes, the White Lady,” says the old woman as pleasantly as possible. “There's the marks on the floor of the stain where she was murdered. There! that gentleman's standing on it.”

   Good gracious! so I am. A dull sort of mulberry-coloured stain. “It won't wash out,” she goes on. “I've tried it. And it won't plane out, as they've tried

    that

   . And so,” she finishes with a sniff, “there it is.”

    ALONE—THE SECRET DOOR—UNSOCIABILITY—THE PICTURE—GRIM THOUGHTS—ONE CHEERFUL IDEA—MELON—HIDING—CRUEL JOKES—SPIRAL—ANGLES—ASSASSINS—WHITE LADY—A COMFORT—NERVES—THE DOOR—A GROWL—SNIFFS—A FOLLOWER—REASONING—SAD THOUGHTS—OUT AT LAST.

    very

   one is silent for a minute, and then we smile at the absurd idea of there being a ghost about. I linger for a few seconds after the others. They go out on to the landing. When I leave the room I pass out there too. They are all gone. I catch sight of a small door, in the panelling, on my right at the end of this corridor, closing quickly. They are gone 

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