The one remaining chance in such an emergency as this was to submit to circumstances.  Magdalen took Mrs. Wragge to a chair; having first placed it in such a position as might enable her to turn her back on her traveling-companion, while she removed the false eyebrows by the help of a little water.  “Wait a minute there,” she said, “and try if you can compose yourself while I bathe my head.”

“Compose myself?” repeated Mrs. Wragge.  “How am I to compose myself when my head feels off my shoulders?  The worst Buzzing I ever had with the Cookery-book was nothing to the Buzzing I’ve got now with the Ghost.  Here’s a miserable end to a holiday!  You may take me back again, my dear, whenever you like—­I’ve had enough of it already!”

Having at last succeeded in removing the eyebrows, Magdalen was free to combat the unfortunate impression produced on her companion’s mind by every weapon of persuasion which her ingenuity could employ.

The attempt proved useless.  Mrs. Wragge persisted—­on evidence which, it may be remarked in parenthesis, would have satisfied many wiser ghost-seers than herself—­in believing that she had been supernaturally favored by a visitor from the world of spirits.  All that Magdalen could do was to ascertain, by cautious investigation, that Mrs. Wragge had not been quick enough to identify the supposed ghost with the character of the old North-country lady in the Entertainment.  Having satisfied herself on this point, she had no resource but to leave the rest to the natural incapability of retaining impressions—­unless those impressions were perpetually renewed—­which was one of the characteristic infirmities of her companion’s weak mind.  After fortifying Mrs. Wragge by reiterated assurances that one appearance (according to all the laws and regulations of ghosts) meant nothing unless it was immediately followed by two more—­after patiently leading back her attention to the parcels dropped on the floor and on the stairs—­and after promising to keep the door of communication ajar between the two rooms if Mrs. Wragge would engage on her side to retire to her own chamber, and to say no more on the terrible subject of the ghost—­Magdalen at last secured the privilege of reflecting uninterruptedly on the events of that memorable day.

Two serious consequences had followed her first step forward.  Mrs. Lecount had entrapped her into speaking in her own voice, and accident had confronted her with Mrs. Wragge in disguise.

What advantage had she gained to set against these disasters?  The advantage of knowing more of Noel Vanstone and of Mrs. Lecount than she might have discovered in months if she had trusted to inquiries made for her by others.  One uncertainty which had hitherto perplexed her was set at rest already.  The scheme she had privately devised against Michael Vanstone—­which Captain Wragge’s sharp insight had partially penetrated when she first warned him that their partnership