She waited a moment, then began again, “I remember going into a cottage not long ago, where an old man holds a prayer meeting every Wednesday evening—­he’s a Dissenter—­you know the sort of man I mean?  Well, I felt extraordinarily comforted, and left alone.”

Her voice sank to a low whisper.  “I suppose”—­there came a little catch in her voice—­“I suppose, Bill, that I am what people used to call ‘possessed.’  In old days I should have been burnt as a witch.  Sometimes I feel as if a battle were going on round me and for me—­a battle between good and evil spirits.  That was what I was feeling last night, before you came up.  I couldn’t rest—­I couldn’t stay in bed.  I felt as if I must move about to avoid—­”

“To avoid what?” he asked.

“—­Their clutchings.”

Her voice dropped.  “I’ve been in old houses where I seemed to know everything about every ghost!”—­she tried to smile.  “People don’t change when they what we call die.  If they’re dull and stupid, they remain dull and stupid.  But here in Wyndfell Hall, I’m frightened.  I’m frightened of Varick—­I feel as if there were something secret, secret and sinister, about him.  I seem to hear the words, ‘Beware—­beware,’ when he is standing by me.  What do you think about him, Bill?  There are a lot of lying spirits about.”

“I haven’t thought much about Varick one way or the other,” said Donnington reluctantly.  “But I should have thought he was a good chap.  See how fond Miss Farrow is of him?”

“That doesn’t mean much,” she said dreamily.  “Blanche doesn’t know anything about human nature—­she only thinks she does.  She’s no spiritual vision left at all.”

“I’m sorry you have that feeling about Varick,” said Bill uncomfortably.

“Varick is never alone,” said Bubbles slowly.  “When I first arrived, and he came out to the porch to meet me, there was Something standing by him, which looked so real, Bill, that I thought it really was a woman of flesh and blood.  I nearly said to him, ‘Who’s that?  Introduce me.’”

“D’you mean you think you actually see spirits, even when you’re not setting out to do so, Bubbles?” asked.  Bill.

She had never said that to him before.  But then this was the first time she had ever talked to him as freely and as frankly as she was talking now.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I do mean,” she said.  “It’s a sort of power that grows—­and oh, Bill, I’d do anything in the world to get rid of it!  But this woman whom I saw standing by Lionel Varick in the porch was not a spirit.  She was an astral body; that is, she was alive somewhere else:  it was her thoughts—­her vengeful, malicious thoughts—­which brought her here.”

“I can’t believe that!” he exclaimed.

“It’s true, Bill.  Though I never saw an astral body before, I knew that Thing to be one—­as soon as I realized it wasn’t a real woman standing there.”

“What was she like?” he asked, impressed against his will.