“It’s a lovely room,” faltered Dozia, “but I feel more like camping out.  What time is it, anyhow?”

“About two-thirty A. M.,” said Jane, “and since the youngsters are safely tucked in, I believe we should take Sally’s advice.  This is quite sumptious,” folding down the extra white shams and coverlet.  “Rather a pity to spoil it for such a sliver of sleep.”

Miss Gifford was at the door when Sally glided off.  “I am so glad you girls are getting to bed,” she commended.  “What a night we have had?  And what a mercy you happened to be within call?  I’m sure I don’t know how you got here but I am not worrying about the details.  Sufficient unto the day is the evil, etc., and”—­with a readjustment of her glasses and a closer fold into the soft night shawl—­“this condition is dreadful.  I have tried to fathom the mystery without troubling the office, but I know now I should have reported it before.” (She referred to the nocturnal disturbances, of course.) “Don’t fear any further alarm, midnight is always the chosen hour.”

“Yes,” blurted Dozia, “we know about it, Miss Gifford, and my friend Jane inveigled me into this midnight raid.  That is really how we got over here, but I can’t say we have to report progress—­’stampede’ would be more accurate.”

“But this is only one night,” Jane insisted, “and our fire brigade spoiled every possibility of investigation.  But, Miss Gifford, since we have undertaken the task, I should like to propose that you give us an opportunity to try our skill at it.  Suppose” (Jane had in mind the tearful face of little Sally) “you give us one more night before you turn the alarm in to Miss Rutledge?  I am sure we can control your girls and get them to agree to our plan.  In spite of everything, you know, they just adore the fun and sensation of it all.”

“Well,” faltered Miss Gifford, weakening, “of course I could not risk a repetition of this night’s experience; at the same time I do like to keep my records free from appeals to headquarters.  It is so much more efficient to manage each cottage independently, subject to a general system.  Well, go to bed children and thank you for your moral and physical support.  We shall discuss future plans on the morrow,” she said sweetly.  Truth to tell Miss Agnes Gifford was a very sweet girl—­woman, and at the moment both Jane and Dozia fell loyally under the spell of her charms.

“Say, Dinks!” whispered Dozia from her side of the big double bed, “what do you think Judy will say to all this?”

“Judy had her own fun and shouldn’t complain.  Wasn’t she all nicely arrested and tried at a regular police court?  What’s a spook and a fire to that!”

But Jane knew better.  That night at Lenox was a “thriller” indeed, and Judith Stearns might well envy her chums its experiences.

Then while Dozia slept Jane wondered.

What did little Sally Howland mean about taking a room at the attic stairs?  And how was that charming little thing implicated with the ghost of Lenox Hall?