"Oh, Miss Rachel, it's the ghost of that dead
man hammering to get in!"
Sure enough, there was a dull thud--thud--thud from some place
near. It was muffled: one rather felt than heard it, and it was
impossible to locate. One moment it seemed to come, three taps
and a pause, from the floor under us: the next, thud--thud--
thud--it came apparently from the wall.
"It's not a ghost," I said decidedly. "If it was a ghost it
wouldn't rap: it would come through the keyhole." Liddy looked
at the keyhole. "But it sounds very much as though some one is
trying to break into the house."
Liddy was shivering violently. I told her to get me my slippers
and she brought me a pair of kid gloves, so I found my things
myself, and prepared to call Halsey. As before, the night alarm
had found the electric lights gone: the hall, save for its night
lamp, was in darkness, as I went across to Halsey's room. I
hardly know what I feared, but it was a relief to find him there,
very sound asleep, and with his door unlocked.
"Wake up, Halsey," I said, shaking him.
He stirred a little. Liddy was half in and half out of the door,
afraid as usual to be left alone, and not quite daring to enter.
Her scruples seemed to fade, however, all at once. She gave a
suppressed yell, bolted into the room, and stood tightly
clutching the foot-board of the bed. Halsey was gradually
waking.
"I've seen it," Liddy wailed. "A woman in white down the hall!"
I paid no attention.
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