“Look!” gasped Adrianna.

The sign of the Blue Leopard over the shelf glowed as if a lantern hung over it.  The radiance was thrown from above.  It grew brighter and brighter as they watched.  The Blue Leopard seemed to crouch and spring with life.  Then the door into the front hall opened—­the outer door, which had been carefully locked.  It squeaked and they all recognized it.  They sat staring.  Mr. Townsend was as transfixed as the rest.  They heard the outer door shut, then the door into the room swung open and slowly that awful black group of people which they had seen in the afternoon entered.  The Townsends with one accord rose and huddled together in a far corner; they all held to each other and stared.  The people, their faces gleaming with a whiteness of death, their black robes waving and folding, crossed the room.  They were a trifle above mortal height, or seemed so to the terrified eyes which saw them.  They reached the mantel-shelf where the sign-board hung, then a black-draped long arm was seen to rise and make a motion, as if plying a knocker.  Then the whole company passed out of sight, as if through the wall, and the room was as before.  Mrs. Townsend was shaking in a nervous chill, Adrianna was almost fainting, Cordelia was in hysterics.  David Townsend stood glaring in a curious way at the sign of the Blue Leopard.  George stared at him with a look of horror.  There was something in his father’s face which made him forget everything else.  At last he touched his arm timidly.

“Father,” he whispered.

David turned and regarded him with a look of rage and fury, then his face cleared; he passed his hand over his forehead.

“Good Lord!  What did come to me?” he muttered.

“You looked like that awful picture of old Tom Townsend in the garret in Townsend Centre, father,” whimpered the boy, shuddering.

“Should think I might look like ’most any old cuss after such darned work as this,” growled David, but his face was white.  “Go and pour out some hot tea for your mother,” he ordered the boy sharply.  He himself shook Cordelia violently.  “Stop such actions!” he shouted in her ears, and shook her again.  “Ain’t you a church member?” he demanded; “what be you afraid of?  You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, have ye?”

Then Cordelia quoted Scripture in a burst of sobs and laughter.

“Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me,” she cried out.  “If I ain’t done wrong, mebbe them that’s come before me did, and when the Evil One and the Powers of Darkness is abroad I’m liable, I’m liable!” Then she laughed loud and long and shrill.

“If you don’t hush up,” said David, but still with that white terror and horror on his own face, “I’ll bundle you out in that vacant lot whether or no.  I mean it.”

Then Cordelia was quiet, after one wild roll of her eyes at him.  The colour was returning to Adrianna’s cheeks; her mother was drinking hot tea in spasmodic gulps.