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A week had fully elapsed after this conversation,
when one evening Frederick Brandon said to me:—

“My sister returned this morning to the city.
Marie comes back to-morrow. And now, what say
you to taking lodgings to-night with me at her house?”

“Agreed—to be sure.”

“But let me warn you. Once there, we must stay
there until the affair is over. We shall certainly have
to remain there for this and the ensuing night. It
may be longer. I cannot now venture the loss of a
single hour. I must be in waiting and on the watch.
I have contrived a hiding-place for both of us, where
we shall escape notice, and from whence we may
emerge at any moment. I have also laid in ample
supplies of meat and drink, so that we shall not suffer.
I have pass keys for every apartment. I can feel my
way along every avenue. My sister will give to Marie
all the necessary instructions. She has, as you are
aware, only to pull a button which links unsuspiciously
at the head of her bed, close against the wall, to
give the alarm, in a moment, if she hears or sees the
ghost. We shall have some wires to pull, the moment
after. All this you know.”

Under the cover of the night, loaded with provisions
for several days, we made our way without interruption
to the haunted dwelling. Our dark lantern was
not forgotten, nor extra supplies of fuel. We found

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our way to an ancient lumber closet, beneath the stairs,
on the second story, which gave us a large recess,
blocked in by old trunks, bandboxes, and furniture—
a child's cradle, apparently of the time of Queen
Elizabeth, black with age, and of the most antique
fashion, being the prominent object. It had rocked
the infant form of that very Colonel de Berniere
whose sleepless spirit we had come to lay. Here we
lay, rather snugly—somewhat fettered in our movements,
but not uncomfortably so—and with the privilege
of stealing out, whither we pleased, as soon as
everybody was asleep. We adjusted our den in such
a manner as to afford us equal ease and security. The
place was one evidently which persons did not often
appear to penetrate. Before taking possession of it,
we went the rounds of the establishment—reviewed all
the secret places—all the avenues—saw that everything
wore its old aspect—tried all the keys to the
secret doors, and felt that we could find egress and
ingress when and where we pleased—and saw heedfully
to the operation of the wire which we had conducted
to the bedhead of the haunted lady. This
done, we returned to our den among the bandboxes,
opened wide the door of our lantern, so as to throw
its light wholly upon the recess, clapped it on top of
an old trunk looking inwards, and then proceeded to
look to the contents of the two provision baskets which
we had brought. These we stowed away in the cradle
of the ghost, i. e., when he was a mere mortal infant.
His spectre did not affect our appetite. We had a
good supply of red wines, which we used freely as a

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substitute for tea and coffee, and with a couple of
cloaks and blankets we made out to sleep lovingly together,
with but little space for much changing of
position through the night.

We woke some time after daylight, but it was still
dark to us, except for the lamp-light, where we were.
The lamp we had to keep burning, and occasionally to
replenish. To strike a light, in the old times, when
friction-matches were not, might have endangered our
secret. A little after we had awakened, Frederick
ventured out, but soon returned.

“They can't arrive,” said he, “before mid-day,
and the servants and carriage will come first. Marie
will drive with my sister, and will bring her round in
the evening, and take tea with her. We may be at
ease till meridian. And now for our breakfast.”

We ate, and walked about for awhile, but towards
11 o'clock A. M., thought it prudent, like sagacious
rats, to take to our hole. We did so, and lay perdu.
It was mid-day—fully one o'clock—when we heard a
bustle below, and the loud voice of Andres, and the
pert voice of the chamber-maid. The back door was
then thrown open, and the cook went out to the
kitchen, but soon returned. A long confabulation
followed between the parties, the Betty of my lady
concluding at last by a loud outcry for something to
eat, declaring herself fairly famished, and utterly
miserable from the vile country fare to which for the
last two weeks she had been so cruelly and unnecessarily
subjected. Meanwhile, Andres seemed to have
absented himself. It was fully an hour before we

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heard his voice again, and he came in just in time to
join in taking dinner with the chamber-maid. Of this
event we guessed the particulars from an occasional
clashing of plates, and the smacking of a cork, which
might have been porter, or, more probably, champagne.
Good tastes may be acquired in the cellar quite as
soon as in the parlor, and education, in a servant's
hall, may sometimes cast discredit, in more ways than
one, on the progress of civilization up stairs.

But feeding, like other good things, must have an
end some time or other. The bustle below stairs
ceased, and very soon we heard my lady's maid in
my lady's chamber. There she bustled about for a
goodly hour, her tongue earnestly engaged all the while
in seeming soliloquy, though that of Andres might be
heard as a sort of thorough-bass, giving force and
dignity to her affetuoso. At intervals we could hear
the movements of both the parties, with the drawing
of tables, the rattling of chairs, and the evident
scraping of the broom over walls and carpets. Our
ears, in the almost total suspension of the exercise of
our other senses, became singularly acute in our place
of hiding. Here we remained undisturbed, almost
unapproached. It was quite sunset by our watches
when Marie de Berniere came home, accompanied by
Madame de Chateauneuve. They went at once to the
chamber of the former, where tea was served them.
We could hear from our den the subdued murmur of
their voices for a couple of hours more. But Madame
de Chateauneuve at length took her departure. An
hour elapsed and the house remained perfectly quiet.

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Then the tongue of my lady's Betty was heard once
more in the chamber. She was evidently assisting
her mistress in disembarrassing her for the night.
This duty seemed to be at length finished. The
chamber door was heard to close. We heard it locked
carefully within; and then the footsteps of the maid,
ascending the stairs over our heads, on her way to
her own sleeping-room in the third story. When this
sound had fairly ceased, we were conscious of a noise—
slight indeed, but to our keen senses sufficiently
obvious—again at the door of Marie's chamber.

“She is withdrawing the key from the lock,” said
Frederick, “as I counselled her through my sister.”

Frederick now carefully trimmed the lamp, shutting
the door of it as soon as it was done. In the brief
moments, when the light was cast upon his countenance,
I saw that his face was very pale, but all the
muscles were rigid, and the mouth was silently and
firmly compressed. We had still, in all probability,
some two hours to wait.

“Be patient,” said my friend; “according to rule,
ghosts have no right to revisit the glimpses of the
moon till 12 o'clock. Midnight is the dawning for the
spiritual world. What a reflection. They find life
and light only when our mortal world is dark, and in
a slumber that mocks the external attributes of death.
Well, we shall see! We shall hear! It is something
to reconcile us to such a tedious watch, that we may
fairly grapple with a ghost.”

“Should your conjectures and suspicions, after all,

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prove unfounded—should there be a real ghost, Frederick!”

Darkness is wonderfully favorable to the marvellous.
Credulity grows in just degree with our ignorance and
incapacity. I should probably during the day, have
never entertained or uttered such a suggestion.

“Can you suppose it possible, after our discoveries?”
queried my friend. “Nay, it is possible, for I am not
prepared to deny the possibility, or even the occurrence
of the supernatural and spectral; but it surely is not
a probability in the present case. At all events, it
will not be very long before we are enabled to resolve
doubts. Let but Marie be firm enough to do as she
has been counselled, and only pull the wire, the button
of which is behind her bolster, and we secure the
visitor, shadowy or real. We shall be seasonably
warned by our little metallic monitor.”

He pointed to a little copper ball which hung
beneath the stairs just above our heads. This, by the
way, was connected by a wire with the button so conveniently
placed by the couch of Madame de Berniere.
The same button was connected by another wire, which
we had conducted into the secret crypt through which
the ghost was expected to enter the chamber. While
the first wire, acting upon the bell, warned us of his
entrance, the opposite wire was contrived in such a
manner as effectually to prevent the working of the
spring by which the ghost let himself out again—
effectually barring his egress from the apartment.
We had tried our machinery thoroughly, so as to

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assure ourselves of its proper and prompt working at
the moment of alarm.

I was silent after this, and stretched myself out as
well as I could, leaning my back and head against the
partition. Frederick felt the movement.

“If you are drowsy,” said he, “indulge yourself.
You will probably have time enough. The bell will
waken you, and I can, at a moment, should it fail to
do so.”

But I disclaimed the desire, of which I was really
mentally unconscious, and roused myself up for awhile;
though now both of us remained silent. But nature
had been a little too much overtaxed, in my case, as
in that of my friend, and though sympathizing with
him fervently, and really extremely anxious about the
result, I yielded finally to that arch-beguiler, sleep,
and closed eyes and senses wholly to the external
world. I was awakened suddenly by Frederick's
grasp upon my shoulder, and by the subsiding tinkle
of the little bell within my ears. My faculties were all
in hand in a moment. Frederick rose, his movements
quite measured and necessarily deliberate. We both
moved with caution, he leading the way, surmounting
boxes and cradle, and without any casualty, we extricated
ourselves, and emerged from the closet. I
carried the lamp, Frederick the keys, and we proceeded
at once, along the passage to the door of Marie's
chamber. We heard a bustle as we proceeded; then
came the sounds of Madame de Berniere's raised voice;
but we heard no voice in reply. I opened the lantern
door; and Frederick applied the key to the lock. It

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opened readily—we pushed in without pausing, and,
turning the key, relocked the door. We were fairly in
the sacred chamber of youth, beauty, and innocence.
The voice of Marie saluted us, something between a
cry and a speech. What she said then I know not;
but I saw her, sitting up in the bed, her eyes bright
as two unsunned jewels of the mine, and her hand
extended in the direction of the chimney. Then I
deciphered her words.

“Save me, my friends. He is here! My enemy.
He who pursues me. He has spoken to me—he has
dared to threaten. He is here—there—he spoke to
me from that direction.”

She pointed towards the secret door. I had held
the light towards it; but it was closed, and I saw
nothing. Frederick, however, coolly took the lantern
from my hand; and, going to the toilet, lighted the two
waxen candles which stood upon it. The room was at
once visible in every quarter. Still, I saw nobody.
Frederick's face was fearfully pale; but he said
nothing. His lips were rigidly caught by his teeth.
I readily conjectured all his emotions. Everything
depended upon this discovery. Should he have failed!
Should there be no detection—no human victim—all
the fancies, and the superstitions of the woman whom he
so much loved, would be confirmed, fatally, to all his
hopes. He seized one of the candles in his hand,
raised it aloft, saw that the secret door was fully fastened,
and at once proceeded to the chimney. A moment
after, he laughed aloud, somewhat hysterically,
and the next moment, thrusting the candle into my

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hands, he stooped into the fireplace and drew down
the ghost, by a pair of very well-made mortal legs, from
the recesses of the chimney.

“Come out!” he said, with great deliberation.
“You can hide no longer.”

The spectre was reluctant. The vigorous grasp of
Frederick assisted his movements, and dragged him
from his hiding-place. He stood upon the hearth,
speechless, immovable; and when I thrust the candle
towards his face, the suspicions of my friend were all
confirmed. There stood the living embodiment of the
excellent father, Paul Roquetti!