And Bubbles dragged on her chair again over the Aubusson carpet.

She was now opposite Miss Burnaby, and the old lady was looking at her with an air of fear and curiosity which strangely altered her round, usually placid face.

“I see a tall young man standing behind you,” began Bubbles in a monotonous voice.  “He has such a funny-looking long coat on; a queer-shaped cap, too.  Why, he’s dripping with water!”

And then, almost as if in spite of herself, Miss Burnaby muttered:  “Our brother John, who was drowned.”

“He wants me to tell you that he’s very happy, and that he sends you your father’s and mother’s love.”

Bubbles waited for what seemed quite a long time, then she went on again:  “I see another man.  He is a very good-looking man.  He has a high forehead, blue eyes, and a golden mustache.  He is in uniform.  Is it an English uniform?”

Miss Burnaby shook her head.

“I think it’s an Austrian uniform,” said Bubbles hesitatingly; then she continued, in that voice which was hers and yet not hers, for it seemed instinct with another mind:  “He says, ’My love!  My love, why did you lack courage?’”

The old lady covered her face with her hands.  “Stop!  Please stop,” she said pitifully.

Bubbles dragged her chair across the front of the fire till she was exactly opposite Mr. Burnaby.

For a few moments nothing happened.  The fire had died down.  There was only a flicker of light in the room.  Then all at once the girl gave a convulsive shudder.  “I can’t help it,” she muttered in a frightened tone.  “Someone’s coming through!”

All the colour went out of the healthy old man’s face.  “Eh, what?” he exclaimed uneasily.

Like Mr. Tapster, he had thought all this tomfoolery, but while Bubbles had been speaking to, or at, his sister, he had felt amazed, as well as acutely uncomfortable.

And then there burst from Bubbles’ lips words uttered in a broken, lamenting voice—­a young, uncultivated woman’s voice:  “I did forgive you—­for sure.  But oh, how I’ve longed to come through to you all these years!  You was cruel, cruel to me, Ted—­and I was kind to you.”

Then followed a very odd, untoward thing.  Mr. Burnaby jumped up from his chair, and he bolted—­literally bolted—­from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Bubbles gave a long, long sigh, and then she said feebly:  “I’m tired.  I can’t go on any longer now.”  She spoke in her natural voice, but all the lilt and confidence were as if drained out of it.

Someone—­perhaps it was Donnington, who had got up—­began re-lighting the candles.

No one spoke for what seemed a long time.  And then, to the infinite relief of Varick and Miss Farrow, the door opened, and the butler appeared, followed by the footmen.  They were bringing in various kinds of drinks.

The host poured out and mixed a rather stiff brandy and soda, and took it over to Miss Burnaby.  “Do drink this,” he said solicitously.  “And forgive me, Miss Burnaby—­I’m afraid I was wrong to allow this—­this—­” he did not know quite what to say, so he ended lamely, “this seance to take place.”