“Great god, it is A ghost—­the ghost of Faynie!”

We must now return to Faynie, and the thrilling position in which we so reluctantly left her.

As the bright blaze of light illumined the corridor Faynie beheld the dark form of a man creeping toward her.

“Great Scott!  Some one must have touched an electric button somewhere—­the wrong button!” he cried, instantly springing behind a marble Flora—­but not before Faynie had distinctly beheld him, being herself unseen, because she was standing in the dense shadow.

“It is he!  It is Lester Armstrong!” was the cry that sprang from her terrified heart to her lips, but no sound issued from them as they parted.

She leaned back faint and dizzy against the wall, unable to utter even the faintest sound.  “So this is Claire’s lover—­the Lester she told me about—­whom she is soon to marry!  The dastardly wretch who wrecked my life and left me for dead under the cold, drifting snow heap,” was the thought that flashed through her dazed brain as she watched him, with bated breath and dilated eyes.

“It was only a false alarm; nobody would be roaming through the corridor of this place at this ghostly hour!” he muttered, sallying forth.  “It seems that I was more scared than hurt on this occasion.  Now for the library, to find that sum of money which my foolish mamma-in-law-that-is-to-be mentioned having placed there.  It’s a daring risk, stealing into the house like a thief in the night to search for it, but there’s no other way to get it, and money I must have without delay.

“It’s mighty dangerous going through this corridor in this bright light.  I wish I knew where to turn it off; the chandelier is too high or I’d do it in that way.  I’m liable to be seen at any moment, if any one should take it into their head to come down through the house for any reason whatsoever.”

The next moment he had disappeared within the library, closing the door neatly to after him.  The next moment he had lighted the shaded night lamp that stood on the table.

Turning out the gas in the corridor, Faynie glided forward like a shadow, and, reaching the library, noiselessly pushed open the door, which he had left slightly ajar.

“What was he doing here?” she wondered vaguely, her eyes blazing with fierce indignation as she stood there considering what her next action should be.  He decided, the question by exclaiming: 

“Ha!  This is the little iron safe she mentioned:  of course the money is here, and the will is probably here, too, for that matter, which states that all of the Fairfax fortune goes to the old lady—­which means the pretty Claire ultimately.  Well, the more money the better; there is no one more competent to make it fly at a gay pace than myself.  A prince of the royal blood couldn’t go at a faster pace than I have been going during these last three weeks!  Ha, ha, ha!”