of them.  True, there was no moon to be seen; and if it was the moon, why did the light go out?  But he found afterwards that he had been right.  The house stood upon a rising ground; and, every recurring cycle, the moon would shine, through a certain vista of trees and branches, upon Lady Euphrasia’s window; provided there had been no growth of twigs to stop up the channel of the light, which was so narrow that in a few moments the moon had crossed it.  A gap in a hedge made by a bull that morning, had removed the last screen. —­ Lady Euphrasia’s window was so neglected and dusty, that it could reflect nothing more than a dim bluish shimmer.

“Will you all accompany me, ladies and gentlemen, that you may see with your own eyes that there is nothing dangerous in the house?” said Mr. Arnold.

Of course Funkelstein was quite ready, and Hugh as well, although he felt at this moment ill-fitted for ghost-hunting.  The ladies hesitated; but at last, more afraid of being left behind alone, than of going with the gentlemen, they consented.  Euphra brought the keys, and they commenced their march of investigation.  Up the grand staircase they went, Mr. Arnold first with the keys, Hugh next with Mrs. Elton and Lady Emily, and the Bohemian, considerably to Hugh’s dissatisfaction, bringing up the rear with Euphra. —­ This misarrangement did more than anything else could have done, to deaden for the time the distraction of feeling produced in Hugh’s mind by the events of the last few minutes.  Yet even now he seemed to be wandering through the old house in a dream, instead of following Mr. Arnold, whose presence might well have been sufficient to destroy any illusion, except such as a Chinese screen might superinduce; for, possessed of far less imagination than a horse, he was incapable of any terrors, but such as had to do with robbers, or fire, or chartists —­ which latter fear included both the former.  He strode on securely, carrying a candle in one hand, and the keys in the other.  Each of the other gentlemen likewise bore a light.  They had to go through doors, some locked, some open, following a different route from that taken by Euphra on a former occasion.

But Mr. Arnold found the keys troublesome.  He could not easily distinguish those he wanted, and was compelled to apply to Euphra.  She left Funkelstein in consequence, and walked in front with her uncle.  Her former companion got beside Lady Emily, and as they could not well walk four abreast, she fell behind with him.  So Hugh got next to Euphra, behind her, and was comforted.

At length, by tortuous ways, across old rooms, and up and down abrupt little stairs, they reached the door of Lady Euphrasia’s room.  The key was found, and the door opened with some perturbation —­ manifest on the part of the ladies, and concealed on the part of the men.  The place was quite dark.  They entered; and Hugh was greatly struck with its strange antiquity.  Lady Euphrasia’s