Which was true enough.  I had come to a very startling conclusion—­ I, Hobart Fenton, had fallen in love!

What was more, this affection of the heart had come to me, a very strong man, just as an affection of the lungs is said to strike such men—­all of a sudden and hard.  One moment I had been a sturdy, independent soul, intent upon scientific investigation, the only symptoms of sentimental potentialities being my perfectly normal love for my sister and for my old friend.  Then, before my very eyes, I had been smitten thus!

And the worst part of it was, I found myself enjoying the sensation.  It made not the slightest difference to me that I had fallen in love with a girl who was only a step removed from a wraith.  Mysteriously she had come to me; as mysteriously she might depart.  I had yet to know from what sort of country she had come!

But that made no difference.  She was here, in the same house with me; I had held her hands; and I knew her to be very, very real indeed just then.  And when I considered the possibility of her disappearing just as inexplicably as she had come—­well, my face went cold, I admit.  But at the same time I felt sure of this much—­I should never love any other woman.

The thought left me sober.  I paused in my pacing and looked at her.  As though in answer to my gaze she glanced up and smiled so affectionately that it was all I could do to keep from leaping forward and taking her right into my arms.

I turned hastily, and to cover my confusion I began to hum a strain from the part of “Faust” to which I have referred.  I hummed it through, and was beginning again, when I was startled to hear this from the girl:  “Oh, then you are Hobart!”

I wheeled, to see her face filled with a wonderful light.

“Hobart,” she repeated, as one might repeat the name of a very dear one.  “That—­that music you were humming!  Why, I heard Harry Wendel humming that yesterday!”

I suppose we looked very stupid, the three of us, so dumbfounded that we could do nothing but gape incredulously at that extraordinary creature and her equally extraordinary utterance.  She immediately did her best to atone for her sensation.

“I’m not sure that I can make it clear,” she said, smiling dubiously, “but if you will use your imaginations and try to fill in the gaps in what I say you may get a fair idea of the place I have come from, and where Harry is.”

We leaned forward, intensely alert.  I shall never forget the pitiful eagerness in poor Charlotte’s face.  It meant more to her, perhaps, than to anyone else.

At the precise instant I heard a sound, off in the breakfast room.  It seemed to be a subdued knocking, or rather a pounding at the door.

Frowning at the interruption, I stepped through the dining-room into the breakfast room, where the sounds came from.  And I was not a little puzzled to note that the door to the basement was receiving the blows.