sinister influence.  ‘In fact,’ I said, ‘it is supposed to be haunted.  Not,’ I added, ’that anything has ever been seen, or heard in my lifetime; but nervous people do not like that sort of room, and I should never take the responsibility of putting anybody into it without telling them.’  She laughed.  ‘I’m not in the least afraid of ghosts, Sir Walter,’ she said, ’and that must obviously be my room, if you please.  It is necessary I should be as near my patient as possible, so that I can be called at once if her own nurse is anxious when I am not on duty.’

“Well, we saw, of course, that she was perfectly right.  She was a fearless little woman, and chaffed Masters and the maids while they lighted a fire and made the room comfortable.  As a matter of fact, it is an exceedingly pleasant room in every respect.  Yet I hesitated, and could not say that I was easy about it.  I felt conscious of a discomfort which even her indifference did not entirely banish.  I attributed it to my acute anxiety over Mary—­ also to a shadow of—­what?  It may have been irritation at Nurse Forrester’s unconcealed contempt for my superstition.  The Grey Room is large and commodious with a rather fine oriel window above our eastern porch.  She was delighted, and rated me very amusingly for my doubts.  ’I hope you’ll never call such a lovely room haunted again after I have gone,’ said she.

“Mary took to her, and really seemed easier after she had been in the sick-room an hour.  She loved young people, and had an art to win them.  She was also a most accomplished and quick-witted nurse.  There seemed to be quite a touch of genius about her.  Her voice was melodious and her touch gentle.  I could appreciate her skill, for I was never far from my daughter’s side during that anxious day.  Mrs. Forrester came at the critical hours, but declared herself very sanguine from the first.

“Night fell; the child was sleeping and Jane Bond arrived to relieve the other about ten o’clock.  Then the lady retired, directed that she should be called at seven o’clock, or at any moment sooner, if Jane wanted her.  I sat with Jane I remember until two, and then turned in myself.  Before I did so, Mary drank some milk and seemed to be holding her strength well.  I was worn out, and despite my anxiety fell into deep sleep, and did not wake until my man called me half an hour earlier than usual.  What he told me brought me quickly to my senses and out of bed.  Nurse Forrester had been called at seven o’clock, but had not responded.  Nor could the maid open the door, for it was locked.  A quarter of an hour later the housekeeper and Jane Bond had loudly summoned her without receiving any reply.  Then they called me.

“I could only direct that the door should be forced open as speedily as possible, and we were engaged in this task when Mannering, my medical man, who shot with us to-day, arrived to see Mary.  I told him what had happened.  He went in to look at my girl, and felt satisfied that she was holding her own well—­indeed, he thought her stronger; and just as he told me so the door into the Grey Room yielded.  Mannering and my housekeeper, Mrs. Forbes, entered the room, while Masters, Fred Caunter, my footman, who had broken down the lock, and I remained outside.