And just then Mrs. Hargis came out and told me that someone wanted me on the ’phone.  It was Swain.

“They let me come out here to the office to ’phone to you,” he said, as he heard my exclamation of surprise.  “Simmonds happened in and told them it would be all right.  He’s here now.”

“And they’re treating you all right?”

“They’re treating me like the star boarder,” he laughed.  And then his voice grew suddenly serious.  “Have you seen Miss Vaughan?”

“Yes,” I answered; for I knew of course that the question was coming.

“Well?”

“Miss Vaughan refuses to go to the Royces’, Swain.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Then where will she go?”

“She won’t go anywhere.”

“You don’t mean,” he cried, panic in his voice, “that she’s going to stay out there?”

“Yes; she laughed when I mentioned danger.  There’s one consolation—­the servants will stay.”

“Did you tell her how anxious I was for her?”

“Yes; I did my best, Swain.”

“And it made no difference?”

“No; it made no difference.  The fact is, Swain, I fancy she’s a little remorseful about her father—­his death has unnerved her—­and there was the funeral to-day—­and, as a sort of atonement, she’s trying to do what she imagines he would wish her to do.”

“He wished her to become a priestess,” said Swain, his voice ghastly.

“Oh, well, she won’t go that far,” I assured him cheerfully; “and no doubt in a few days, when the first impression of the tragedy has worn off, she will be ready to go to the Royces’.  I’ll keep suggesting it, and I’m going to have Mrs. Royce call on her.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lester,” he said, but his voice was still shaking.  “I—­this sort of knocks me out—­I hadn’t foreseen it.  I’ll have to think it over.  But there’s one thing you can do.”

“What is it?”

“Watch the house!” he cried.  “Watch the house!  And be ready if she screams again.”

“All right,” I said, soothingly, “I’ll do that.  But tell me, Swain, what is it you fear?”

“I fear Silva!” said Swain, in a voice husky with emotion.  “It isn’t remorse for her father—­it’s Silva who’s working on her.  I feel it, some way—­I’m sure of it.  God knows what he’ll try—­any villainy.  You must watch the house, Mr. Lester—­day and night you must watch the house!”

“All right,” I said, again, strangely impressed by his words.  “You may count on me.”

“Thank you,” he said.  “Remember, we’ve only you.  Good-bye.”

Swain’s words gave me plenty to think over, and left me so troubled and uneasy that I made a trip to the top of the ladder to take a look over Elmhurst.  But everything appeared as usual.  Perhaps Swain was right—­perhaps it was Silva who was using every minute to increase his influence; but what could I do?  So long as he committed no overt act, there was no excuse for interference, and Miss Vaughan would undoubtedly resent it.  As Swain had said, there was nothing that I could do but watch.