The Haunted Woman

"Which Mr. Judge promptly extended to half-an-hour," said Blanche, with her back still turned.

"Why, what happened?"

"A somewhat absurd accident, Miss Loment. Whether it was the hot sun, or the wine, I don't know, but I fell asleep upstairs."

"How fu

Blanche swung round. "But the fu

"I repeat, Mrs. Stokes-because you looked in the wrong place. I was in one of the servants' rooms. I recollected having seen a window left open, and went along to shut it."

"Quite a chapter of accidents!" said Isbel. "However, the main thing is we're all happily assembled again, safe and sound, after our various adventures. Did you see anything interesting, Roger?"

"Much. The house is a veritable pot-pourri of styles and centuries. I have counted three distinct periods, and perhaps there are more."

Judge entered the conversation with a visible effort. "This hall is one, the main body of the house is another, but what is the third?"

"Why, the East Room. There's old, old, very old work there, unless I'm crassly ignorant. One of the rafters of the ceiling is carved with runes. That was placed there by no Elizabethan hand."

"You said nothing about this at the time?"

"I had no audience, my dear proprietor. My lady-wife was gazing around for ghosts, while you were deep in abstract thought, and did not once remove your eyes from the blank wall they chanced to alight on."

"But what would be the object of this carving?" demanded Isbel hurriedly.

"Doubtless a magic formula employed by our heathen Saxon forefathers to prevent the goblins from riding the roof-a favourite supernatural pastime of the olden days. Were I Judge, I would fain remove the timber and send it to our authorities to be deciphered."

"Perhaps I will," said Judge.

Isbel did not listen to Roger very attentively: she was cogitating Judge's story. She did not believe that he had spoken the truth. A quite different explanation of his disappearance had dawned on her, and with Isbel's intuitions from dawn to full day was but a flash. On his return to the East Room, he had seen that the staircase again which he had seen so many times before. He had ascended it, and-her heart beat rapidly-they two had met up there!…That was why they had been glancing at each other so strangely…She was as sure of it all as if she had heard it from his own mouth.

She turned aside in sick excitement.

"We'd better get home," remarked Blanche coldly. "It's nearly four, and I shan't be sorry for some tea?"

Judge glanced at her rather anxiously "Would you prefer to stop somewhere en route?"

"We'll get home, I think."

As there was nothing to wait for, they at once left the hall. The girls went in front, but as soon as they were outside Blanche accompanied her husband to the car, leaving the others on the doorstep while Judge prepared to lock up.

"I'm coming over to Worthing to-morrow, to see you," murmured Isbel, standing straight up, facing the door and Judge.

Without changing countenance or so much as looking at her, he bent down to insert the key in the hole.

"Certainly, Miss Loment."

"I'll come over by train in the morning. Can you meet me on the front, as if by accident? Do you know a train?"

"There's the 10.40 from Hove."

"That will do. Please don't say a word to anyone."

Without waiting for his response, she hastened to join her friends. The two girls resumed their wraps, and got into the back seat. Judge took his place behind the wheel, and lastly Roger climbed in. After a little preliminary backing, they made a clear start down the drive.

At the lodge-gate they stopped for a minute, while Mrs. Priday called her husband out, in obedience to Judge's request. The head gardener was in the middle of tea, and his mouth was still busily engaged, in spite of his efforts to empty it.

"Priday," said his master, leaning out of the car towards him, "one of the ladies has lost a scarf somewhere on the grounds. It might be as far away as the stream by Moss's Wood. Have a good look round for it-to-day. It must be found."

"Colour, sir?"

Judge mutely transferred the inquiry to Isbel.

"Vieux rose. A long silk scarf."

"Pink, Priday. See to it at once. Good afternoon!"

Blanche paid a visit to Isbel's room that evening, during the dressing hour before di

"What's the matter, Blanche?"

"Nothing. I've just looked in."

"I thought perhaps you wanted to say something…Well, have you enjoyed your day?"

"Oh, I expect so. Have you?"

"Yes-but I'm vexed about the scarf."

Blanche pointed her toes together and gazed down at the carpet. "Is it worth worrying about?"

"I hate losing things."

There was a pause.

"I know where it is-if that's any help to you," said Blanche quietly.

"You do?…Why, where is it?"

Her friend slowly lifted her eyes, until they stopped on Isbel's face. "In Judge's breast-pocket."

Isbel jumped up, then sat down again.

"What!"

"That's where it was, dear, at any rate, for I saw it there-peeping out."

"Oh, absurd!…What on earth should he be doing with my scarf?"

"I wonder you don't rather ask how it comes to be in his possession. You didn't give it to him, I presume?"

"I decidedly didn't. I'm not in the habit of giving articles of clothing to men."

Blanche pursed her lips for a second or two…"You certainly were wearing it when we went upstairs. You never came upstairs at all, and Judge never went downstairs. Yet the next time we meet him, it has become mysteriously transferred to his pocket. He hadn't even taken common precautions to hide it…Somewhat puzzling, don't you think?"

Danger signals appeared suddenly on Isbel's cheeks.

"You infer…?"

"Nothing, dearest. But if you're speaking the truth-as I hope, for your own sake, you are-then that man isn't. In any case, he isn't. A girl's scarf doesn't float upstairs and find it's way into a man's pocket of its own sweet will."

"Most likely it wasn't my scarf at all."

"My dear child, whatever else I don't know, I do know the contents of your wardrobe. You might put Roger off with that suggestion, but not me. It was your scarf."

Isbel bit her lip, and stared at the carpet beneath her.

"Then all I can say is, he must be pretty far gone. He has no right to it, and I don't know in the least what he's doing with it. Perhaps it's a form of mania with him."

"Yes-but you won't see the point. How did he get hold of it?"

"I expect after he had made his escape from you he slipped quietly down the servants' staircase and got into the hall that way. Finding me asleep, he appropriated the scarf. I can't think of any other solution."

"He may be a lunatic, of course," said Blanche, in her driest tone.

"Thanks! I quite understand what you're driving at all along."

Blanche said nothing. Isbel, after waiting in vain for her to speak, uttered a high, metallic laugh.

"Oh, I admit the evidence is overwhelmingly damning against both of us. You might as well be honest about it."

"For heaven's sake don't take up that tone! You must see for yourself how it compromises you. Instead of losing your temper, you had much better set about recovering your property. If I've seen it, somebody else may."