I told Philip the next morning. There was no need to bespeak his attention. I think he felt nearly as horrified as I had done myself at the idea that our own hitherto bright, cheerful home was to be haunted by this awful thing – influence or presence, call it what you will. And the suggestions which I went on to make struck him, too, with a sense of relief.

He sat in silence for some time after making me recapitulate as precisely as possible every detail of Sophy's story.

"You are sure it was the door into the library?" he said at last.

"Quite sure," I replied; "and, oh, Philip," I went on, "it has just occurred to me that father felt a chill there the other evening."

For till that moment the little incident in question had escaped my memory.

"Do you remember which of the "portières" hung in front of the door at Finster?" said Philip.

I shook my head.

"Dormy would," I said, "he used to examine the pictures in the tapestry with great interest. I should not know one from the other. There is an old castle in the distance in each, and a lot of trees, and something meant for a lake."

But in his turn Philip shook his head.

"No," he said, "I won't speak to Dormy about it if I can possibly help it. Leave it to me, Leila, and try to put it out of your own mind as much as you possibly can, and don't be surprised at anything you may notice in the next few days. I will tell you, first of any one, whenever I have anything to tell."

That was all I could get out of him. So I took his advice.

Luckily, as it turned out, Mr. Miles, the only outsider, so to say (except the unfortunate keeper), who had witnessed the ghostly drama, was one of the shooting party expected that day. And him Philip at once determined to consult about this new and utterly unexpected manifestation.

He did not tell me this. Indeed, it was not till fully a week later that I heard anything, and then in a letter – a very long letter from my brother, which, I think, will relate the sequel of our strange ghost story better than any narration at second-hand, of my own.

Mr. Miles only stayed two nights with us. The very day after he came he announced that, to his great regret, he was obliged – most unexpectedly – to return to Raxtrew on important business.

"And," he continued, "I am afraid you will all feel much more vexed with me when I tell you I am going to carry off Phil with me."

Father looked very blank indeed.

"Phil!" he exclaimed, "and how about our shooting?"

"You can easily replace us," said my brother, "I have thought of that," and he added something in a lower tone to father. He – Phil – was leaving the room at the time. I thought it had reference to the real reason of his accompanying Mr. Miles, but I was mistaken. Father, however, said nothing more in opposition to the plan, and the next morning the two went off.

We happened to be standing at the hall door – several of us – for we were a large party now – when Phil and his friend drove away. As we turned to re-enter the house, I felt some one touch me. It was Sophy. She was going out for a constitutional with Miss Larpent, but had stopped a moment to speak to me.

"Leila," she said in a whisper, "why have they – did you know that the tapestry had been taken down?"

She glanced at me with a peculiar expression. I had not observed it. Now, looking up, I saw that the two locked doors were visible in the dark polish of their old mahogany as of yore – no longer shrouded by the ancient portières. I started in surprise.

"No," I whispered in return, "I did not know. Never mind, Sophy. I suspect there is a reason for it which we shall know in good time."

I felt strongly tempted – the moon being still at the full – to visit the hall that night – in hopes of feeling and seeing —nothing. But when the time drew near, my courage failed; besides I had tacitly promised Philip to think as little as I possibly could about the matter, and any vigil of the kind would certainly not have been acting in accordance with the spirit of his advice.

I think I will now copy, as it stands, the letter from Philip which I received a week or so later. It was dated from his club in London.

"My dear Leila,

"I have a long story to tell you and a very extraordinary one. I think it is well that it should be put into writing, so I will devote this evening to the task – especially as I shall not be home for ten days or so.

"You may have suspected that I took Miles into my confidence as soon as he arrived. If you did you were right. He was the best person to speak to for several reasons. He looked, I must say, rather – well 'blank' scarcely expresses it – when I told him of the ghost's re-appearance, not only at the Rectory, but in our own house, and on both occasions to persons – Nat, and then Sophy – who had not heard a breath of the story. But when I went on to propound your suggestion, Miles cheered up. He had been, I fancy, a trifle touchy about our calling Finster haunted, and it was evidently a satisfaction to him to start another theory. We talked it well over, and we decided to test the thing again – it took some resolution, I own, to do so. We sat up that night – bright moonlight luckily – and – well, I needn't repeat it all. Sophy was quite correct. It came again – the horrid creeping shadow – poor wretch, I'm rather sorry for it now – just in the old way – quite as much at home in – shire, apparently, as in the Castle. It stopped at the closed library door, and fumbled away, then started off again – ugh! We watched it closely, but kept well in the middle of the room, so that the cold did not strike us so badly. We both noted the special part of the tapestry where its hands seemed to sprawl, and we meant to stay for another round; but – when it came to the point we funked it, and went to bed.

"Next morning, on pretence of examining the date of the tapestry, we had it down – you were all out – and we found —something. Just where the hands felt about, there had been a cut – three cuts, three sides of a square, as it were, making a sort of door in the stuff, the fourth side having evidently acted as a hinge, for there was a mark where it had been folded back. And just where – treating the thing as a door – you might expect to find a handle to open it by, we found a distinct dint in the tapestry, as if a button or knob had once been there. We looked at each other. The same idea had struck us. The tapestry had been used to conceal a small door in the wall – the door of a secret cupboard probably. The ghostly fingers had been vainly seeking for the spring which in the days of their flesh and bone they had been accustomed to press.

"'The first thing to do,' said Miles, 'is to look up Hunter and make him tell where he got the tapestry from. Then we shall see.'

"'Shall we take the portières with us?' I said.

"But Miles shuddered, though he half laughed too.

"'No, thank you,' he said. 'I'm not going to travel with the evil thing.'

"'We can't hang it up again, though,' I said, 'after this last experience.'

"In the end we rolled up the two portières, not to attract attention by only moving one, and – well, I thought it just possible the ghost might make a mistake, and I did not want any more scares while I was away – we rolled them up together, first carefully measuring the cut, and its position in the curtain, and then we hid them away in one of the lofts that no one ever enters, where they are at this moment, and where the ghost may have been disporting himself, for all I know, though I fancy he has given it up by this time, for reasons you shall hear.

"Then Miles and I, as you know, set off for Raxtrew. I smoothed my father down about it, by reminding him how good-natured they had been to us, and telling him Miles really needed me. We went straight to Hunter. He hummed and hawed a good deal – he had not distinctly promised not to give the name of the place the tapestry had come from, but he knew the gentleman he had bought it from did not want it known.

"'Why?' said Miles. 'Is it some family that has come down in the world, and is forced to part with things to get some ready money?'

"'Oh, dear no!' said Hunter. 'It is not that, at all. It was only that – I suppose I must give you the name – Captain Devereux – did not want any gossip to get about, as to – '

"'Devereux!' repeated Miles, 'you don't mean the people at Hallinger?'

"'The same,' said Hunter. 'If you know them, sir, you will be careful, I hope, to assure the captain that I did my best to carry out his wishes?'

"'Certainly,' said Miles, 'I'll exonerate you.'

"And then Hunter told us that Devereux, who only came into the Hallinger property a few years ago, had been much annoyed by stories getting about of the place being haunted, and this had led to his dismantling one wing, and – Hunter thought, but was not quite clear as to this – pulling down some rooms altogether. But he, Devereux, was very touchy on the subject – he did not want to be laughed at.

"'And the tapestry came from him – you are certain as to that?' Miles repeated.

"'Positive, sir. I took it down with my own hands. It was fitted on to two panels in what they call the round room at Hallinger – there were, oh, I daresay, a dozen of them, with tapestry nailed on, but I only bought these two pieces – the others were sold to a London dealer.'

"'The round room,' I said. Leila, the expression struck me.

"Miles, it appeared, knew Devereux fairly well. Hallinger is only ten miles off. We drove over there, but found he was in London. So our next move was to follow him there. We called twice at his club, and then Miles made an appointment, saying that he wanted to see him on private business.

"He received us civilly, of course. He is quite a young fellow – in the Guards. But when Miles began to explain to him what we had come about, he stiffened.

"'I suppose you belong to the Psychical Society?' he said. 'I can only repeat that I have nothing to tell, and I detest the whole subject.'

"'Wait a moment,' said Miles, and as he went on I saw that Devereux changed. His face grew intent with interest and a queer sort of eagerness, and at last he started to his feet.

"'Upon my soul,' he said, 'I believe you've run him to earth for me – the ghost, I mean, and if so, you shall have my endless gratitude. I'll go down to Hallinger with you at once – this afternoon, if you like, and see it out.'

"He was so excited that he spoke almost incoherently, but after a bit he calmed down, and told us all he had to tell – and that was a good deal – which would indeed have been nuts for the Psychical Society. What Hunter had said was but a small part of the whole. It appeared that on succeeding to Hallinger, on the death of an uncle, young Devereux had made considerable changes in the house. He had, among others, opened out a small wing – a sort of round tower – which had been completely dismantled and bricked up for, I think he said, over a hundred years. There was some story about it. An ancestor of his – an awful gambler – had used the principal room in this wing for his orgies. Very queer things went on there, the finish up being the finding of old Devereux dead there one night, when his servants were summoned by the man he had been playing with – with whom he had had an awful quarrel. This man, a low fellow, probably a professional cardsharper, vowed that he had been robbed of a jewel which his host had staked, and it was said that a ring of great value had disappeared. But it was all hushed up – Devereux had really died in a fit – though soon after, for reasons only hinted at, the round tower was shut up, till the present man rashly opened it again.

"Almost at once, he said, the annoyances, to use a mild term, began. First one, then another of the household were terrified out of their wits, just as we were, Leila. Devereux himself had seen it two or three times, the 'it,' of course, being his miserable old ancestor. A small man, with a big wig, and long, thin, claw-like fingers. It all corresponded. Mrs. Devereux is young and nervous. She could not stand it. So in the end the round tower was shut up again, all the furniture and hangings sold, and locally speaking, the ghost laid. That was all Devereux knew.

"We started, the three of us, that very afternoon, as excited as a party of schoolboys. Miles and I kept questioning Devereux, but he had really no more to tell. He had never thought of examining the walls of the haunted room – it was wainscotted, he said – and might be lined all through with secret cupboards, for all he knew. But he could not get over the extraordinariness of the ghost's sticking to the tapestry– and indeed it does rather lower one's idea of ghostly intelligence.

"We went at it at once – the tower was not bricked up again, luckily – we got in without difficulty the next morning – Devereux making some excuse to the servants, a new set who had not heard of the ghost, for our eccentric proceedings. It was a tiresome business. There were so many panels in the room, as Hunter had said, and it was impossible to tell in which the tapestry had been fixed. But we had our measures, and we carefully marked a line as near as we could guess at the height from the floor that the cut in the portières must have been. Then we tapped and pummelled and pressed imaginary springs till we were nearly sick of it – there was nothing to guide us. The wainscotting was dark and much shrunk and marked with age, and full of joins in the wood any one of which might have meant a door.

"It was Devereux himself who found it at last. We heard an exclamation from where he was standing by himself at the other side of the room. He was quite white and shaky.

"'Look here,' he said, and we looked.

"Yes – there was a small deep recess, or cupboard in the thickness of the wall, excellently contrived. Devereux had touched the spring at last, and the door, just matching the cut in the tapestry, flew open.

"Inside lay what at first we took for a packet of letters, and I hoped to myself they contained nothing that would bring trouble on poor Devereux. They were not letters, however, but two or three incomplete packs of cards – grey and dust-thick with age – and as Miles spread them out, certain markings on them told their own tale. Devereux did not like it, naturally – their supposed owner had been a member of his house.

"'The ghost has kept a conscience,' he said, with an attempt at a laugh. 'Is there nothing more?'

"Yes – a small leather bag – black and grimy, though originally, I fancy, of chamois skin. It drew with strings. Devereux pulled it open, and felt inside.

"'By George!' he exclaimed. And he held out the most magnificent diamond ring I have ever seen – sparkling away as if it had only just come from the polisher's. 'This must be the ring,' he said.

"And we all stared – too astonished to speak.

"Devereux closed the cupboard again, after carefully examining it to make sure nothing had been left behind. He marked the exact spot where he had pressed the spring so as to find it at any time. Then we all left the round room, locking the door securely after us.

"Miles and I spent that night at Hallinger. We sat up late talking it all over. There are some queer inconsistencies about the thing which will probably never be explained. First and foremost – why has the ghost stuck to the tapestry instead of to the actual spot he seemed to have wished to reveal? Secondly, what was the connection between his visits and the full moon – or is it that only by the moonlight the shade becomes perceptible to human sense? Who can say?

"As to the story itself – what was old Devereux's motive in concealing his own ring? Were the marked cards his, or his opponent's, of which he had managed to possess himself, and had secreted as testimony against the other fellow?

"I incline, and so does Miles, to this last theory, and when we suggested it to Devereux, I could see it was a relief to him. After all, one likes to think one's ancestors were gentlemen!

"'But what, then, has he been worrying about all this century or more?' he said. 'If it were that he wanted the ring returned to its real owner – supposing the fellow had won it – I could understand it, though such a thing would be impossible. There is no record of the man at all – his name was never mentioned in the story.'

"'He may want the ring restored to its proper owner all the same,' said Miles. 'You are its owner, as the head of the family, and it has been your ancestor's fault that it has been hidden all these years. Besides, we cannot take upon ourselves to explain motives in such a case. Perhaps – who knows? – the poor shade could not help himself. His peregrinations may have been of the nature of punishment.'

"'I hope they are over now,' said Devereux, 'for his sake and everybody else's. I should be glad to think he wanted the ring restored to us, but besides that, I should like to do something – something good you know – if it would make him easier, poor old chap. I must consult Lilias.' Lilias is Mrs. Devereux.

"This is all I have to tell you at present, Leila. When I come home we'll have the portières up again and see what happens. I want you now to read all this to my father, and if he has no objection – he and my mother, of course – I should like to invite Captain and Mrs. Devereux to stay a few days with us – as well as Miles, as soon as I come back."

Philip's wish was acceded to. It was with no little anxiety and interest that we awaited his return.

The tapestry portières were restored to their place – and on the first moonlight night, my father, Philip, Captain Devereux and Mr. Miles held their vigil.

What happened?

Nothing– the peaceful rays lighted up the quaint landscape of the tapestry, undisturbed by the poor groping fingers – no gruesome unearthly chill as of worse than death made itself felt to the midnight watchers – the weary, may we not hope repentant, spirit was at rest at last!

And never since has any one been troubled by the shadow in the moonlight.

"I cannot help hoping," said Mrs. Devereux, when talking it over, "that what Michael has done may have helped to calm the poor ghost."

And she told us what it was. Captain Devereux is rich, though not immensely so. He had the ring valued – it represented a very large sum, but Philip says I had better not name the figures – and then he, so to say, bought it from himself. And with this money he – no, again, Phil says I must not enter into particulars beyond saying that with it he did something very good, and very useful, which had long been a pet scheme of his wife's.

Sophy is grown up now and she knows the whole story. So does our mother. And Dormy too has heard it all. The horror of it has quite gone. We feel rather proud of having been the actual witnesses of a ghostly drama.

"THE MAN WITH THE COUGH."

I am a German by birth and descent. My name is Schmidt. But by education I am quite as much an Englishman as a "Deutscher," and by affection much more the former. My life has been spent pretty equally between the two countries, and I flatter myself I speak both languages without any foreign accent.

I count England my headquarters now: it is "home" to me. But a few years ago I was resident in Germany, only going over to London now and then on business. I will not mention the town where I lived. It is unnecessary to do so, and in the peculiar experience I am about to relate I think real names of people and places are just as well, or better, avoided.

I was connected with a large and important firm of engineers. I had been bred up to the profession, and was credited with a certain amount of talent; and I was considered – and, with all modesty, I think I deserved the opinion – steady and reliable, so that I had already attained a fair position in the house, and was looked upon as a "rising man". But I was still young, and not quite so wise as I thought myself. I came very near once to making a great mess of a certain affair. It is this story which I am going to tell.

Our house went in largely for patents – rather too largely, some thought. But the head partner's son was a bit of a genius in his way, and his father was growing old, and let Herr Wilhelm – Moritz we will call the family name – do pretty much as he chose. And on the whole Herr Wilhelm did well. He was cautious, and he had the benefit of the still greater caution and larger experience of Herr Gerhardt, the second partner in the firm.

Patents and the laws which regulate them are queer things to have to do with. No one who has not had personal experience of the complications that arise could believe how far these spread and how entangled they become. Great acuteness as well as caution is called for if you would guide your patent bark safely to port – and perhaps more than anything, a power of holding your tongue. I was no chatterbox, nor, when on a mission of importance, did I go about looking as if I were bursting with secrets, which is, in my opinion, almost as dangerous as revealing them. No one, to meet me on the journeys which it often fell to my lot to undertake, would have guessed that I had anything on my mind but an easy-going young fellow's natural interest in his surroundings, though many a time I have stayed awake through a whole night of railway travel if at all doubtful about my fellow-passengers, or not dared to go to sleep in a hotel without a ready-loaded revolver by my pillow.

For now and then – though not through me – our secrets did ooze out. And if, as has happened, they were secrets connected with Government orders or contracts, there was, or but for the exertion of the greatest energy and tact on the part of my superiors, there would have been, to put it plainly, the devil to pay.

One morning – it was nearing the end of November – I was sent for to Herr Wilhelm's private room. There I found him and Herr Gerhardt before a table spread with papers covered with figures and calculations, and sheets of beautifully executed diagrams.

"Lutz," said Herr Wilhelm. He had known me from childhood, and often called me by the abbreviation of my Christian name, which is Ludwig, or Louis. "Lutz, we are going to confide to you a matter of extreme importance. You must be prepared to start for London to-morrow."

"All right, sir," I said, "I shall be ready."

"You will take the express through to Calais – on the whole it is the best route, especially at this season. By travelling all night you will catch the boat there, and arrive in London so as to have a good night's rest, and be clear-headed for work the next morning."

I bowed agreement, but ventured to make a suggestion.

"If, as I infer, the matter is one of great importance," I said, "would it not be well for me to start sooner? I can – yes," throwing a rapid survey over the work I had before me for the next two days – "I can be ready to-night."

Herr Wilhelm looked at Herr Gerhardt. Herr Gerhardt shook his head.

"No," he replied; "to-morrow it must be," and then he proceeded to explain to me why.

I need not attempt to give all the details of the matter with which I was entrusted. Indeed, to "lay" readers it would be impossible. Suffice it to say, the whole concerned a patent – that of a very remarkable and wonderful invention, which it was hoped and believed the Governments of both countries would take up. But to secure this being done in a thoroughly satisfactory manner it was necessary that our firm should go about it in concert with an English house of first-rate standing. To this house – the firm of Messrs. Bluestone and Fagg I will call them – I was to be sent with full explanations. And the next half-hour or more passed in my superiors going minutely into the details, so as to satisfy themselves that I understood. The mastering of the whole was not difficult, for I was well grounded technically; and like many of the best things the idea was essentially simple, and the diagrams were perfect. When the explanations were over, and my instructions duly noted, I began to gather together the various sheets, which were all numbered. But, to my surprise, Herr Gerhardt, looking over me, withdrew two of the most important diagrams, without which the others were valueless, because inexplicable.

"Stay," he said; "these two, Ludwig, must be kept separate. These we send to-day, by registered post, direct to Bluestone and Fagg. They will receive them a day before they see you, and with them a letter announcing your arrival."

I looked up in some disappointment. I had known of precautions of the kind being taken, but usually when the employé sent was less reliable than I believed myself to be. Still, I scarcely dared to demur.

"Do you think that necessary?" I said respectfully. "I can assure you that from the moment you entrust me with the papers they shall never quit me day or night. And if there were any postal delay – you say time is valuable in this case – or if the papers were stolen in the transit – such things have happened – my whole mission would be worthless."

"We do not doubt your zeal and discretion, my good Schmidt," said Herr Gerhardt. "But in this case we must take even extra precautions. I had not meant to tell you, fearing to add to the certain amount of nervousness and strain unavoidable in such a case, but still, perhaps it is best that you should know that we have reason for some special anxiety. It has been hinted to us that some breath of this" – and he tapped the papers – "has reached those who are always on the watch for such things. We cannot be too careful."

"And yet," I persisted, "you would trust the post?"

"We do not trust the post," he replied. "Even if these diagrams were tampered with, they would be perfectly useless. And tampered with they will not be. But even supposing anything so wild, the rogues in question knowing of your departure (and they are more likely to know of it than of our packet by post), were they in collusion with some traitor in the post-office, are sharp enough to guess the truth – that we have made a Masonic secret of it – the two separate diagrams are valueless without your papers; your papers reveal nothing without Nos. 7 and 13."

I bowed in submission. But I was, all the same, disappointed, as I said, and a trifle mortified.

Herr Wilhelm saw it, and cheered me up.

"All right, Lutz, my boy," he said. "I feel just like you – nothing I should enjoy more than a rush over to London, carrying the whole documents, and prepared for a fight with any one who tried to get hold of them. But Herr Gerhardt here is cooler-blooded than we are."

The elder man smiled.

"I don't doubt your readiness to fight, nor Ludwig's either. But it would be by no such honestly brutal means as open robbery that we should be outwitted. Make friends readily with no one while travelling, Lutz, yet avoid the appearance of keeping yourself aloof. You understand?"

"Perfectly," I said. "I shall sleep well to-night, so as to be prepared to keep awake throughout the journey."

The papers were then carefully packed up. Those consigned to my care were to be carried in a certain light, black handbag with a very good lock, which had often before been my travelling companion.

And the following evening I started by the express train agreed upon. So, at least, I have always believed, but I have never been able to bring forward a witness to the fact of my train at the start being the right one, as no one came with me to see me off. For it was thought best that I should depart in as unobtrusive a manner as possible, as, even in a large town such as ours, the members and employés of an old and important house like the Moritzes' were well known.

I took my ticket then, registering no luggage, as I had none but what I easily carried in my hand, as well as the bag. It was already dusk, if not dark, and there was not much bustle in the station, nor apparently many passengers. I took my place in an empty second-class compartment, and sat there quietly till the train should start. A few minutes before it did so, another man got in. I was somewhat annoyed at this, as in my circumstances nothing was more undesirable than travelling alone with one other. Had there been a crowded compartment, or one with three or four passengers, I would have chosen it; but at the moment I got in, the carriages were all either empty or with but one or two occupants. Now, I said to myself, I should have done better to wait till nearer the time of departure, and then chosen my place.

I turned to reconnoitre my companion, but I could not see his face clearly, as he was half leaning out of the window. Was he doing so on purpose? I said to myself, for naturally I was in a suspicious mood. And as the thought struck me I half started up, determined to choose another compartment. Suddenly a peculiar sound made itself heard. My companion was coughing. He drew his head in, covering his face with his hand, as he coughed again. You never heard such a curious cough. It was more like a hen clucking than anything I can think of. Once, twice he coughed; then, as if he had been waiting for the slight spasm to pass, he sprang up, looked eagerly out of the window again, and, opening the door, jumped out, with some exclamation, as if he had just caught sight of a friend.

And in another moment or two – he could barely have had time to get in elsewhere – much to my satisfaction, the train moved off.

"Now," thought I, "I can make myself comfortable for some hours. We do not stop till M – : it will be nine o'clock by then. If no one gets in there I am safe to go through till to-morrow alone; then there will only be – Junction, and a clear run to Calais."

I unstrapped my rug and lit a cigar – of course I had chosen a smoking-carriage – and, delighted at having got rid of my clucking companion, the time passed pleasantly till we pulled up at M – . The delay there was not great, and to my enormous satisfaction no one molested my solitude. Evidently the express to Calais was not in very great demand that night. I now felt so secure that, notwithstanding my intention of keeping awake all night, my innermost consciousness had not I suppose quite resigned itself to the necessity, for, not more than a hour or so after leaving M – , possibly sooner, I fell fast asleep.