Thalassa watched them moodily until the sound ceased.  He then left the kitchen with deliberate tread, and stalked upstairs.

The door of his master’s study was closed.  He opened it without troubling to knock, but started back in astonishment at the sight which met his eyes.  Robert Turold was crouching by the table like a beaten dog, whimpering and shaking with fear.  He sprang to his feet as Thalassa entered, and advanced towards him.

“Thank God you’ve come, Thalassa,” he cried.

“What’s the matter with you?” said Thalassa sternly.

“He’s come back, Thalassa—­he’s come back.”

“He?  Who?”

“You know whom I mean well enough.  It was—­” His voice sank suddenly, and he whispered a name in the man’s ear.

Thalassa’s brown cheek paled slightly, but he answered quickly and roughly—­

“What nonsense are you talking now?  How can he have come back?  How often must I tell you that he is dead?”

“You mean that you thought he was dead, Thalassa.  But he is alive.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard him.”

“Heard him!  What do you mean?”

“I heard his footsteps pattering around the house, as clear and distinct as that night on that hellish island.  Shall I ever forget the sound of his footsteps then, as he raced over the rocks, looking back at us with his wild eyes, and the blood streaming down his face—­running and running until he stumbled and fell?  The sound of his running footsteps as he clattered over the rocks have haunted me day and night ever since.  I heard them again to-night.”

“I tell you again that he is dead.  What!  Do you think that you could hear footsteps on a night like this?” The man stepped quickly across to the nearest window and flung it open.  The room was filled with rushing wind, and the window curtains flapped noisily.  “And where would he be running to?  Do you suppose he could climb up here from outside?”

“It might have been his spirit,” murmured the other.

“Spirits don’t cross the ocean, and their footsteps don’t clatter,” responded Thalassa coldly.  “The house is all locked up, and there is no other house near by.  Come, what are you afraid of?  You are worrying and upsetting yourself over nothing.  I’ll bring you up your supper, and some whisky with it.  And the sooner you leave this cursed hole of a place, the better it will be.”

He crossed over to the fireplace and poked the coal into a red glow, and then turned to leave the room.  It was plain that his words had some effect on Robert Turold, and he made an effort to restore his dignity before the witness of his humiliation left him.

“No doubt you are right, Thalassa,” he said in his usual tone.  “My nerves are a little overstrung, I fancy.  You said the house was locked up for the night, I think?”

“Everything bolted and barred,” said Thalassa, and left the room.