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thought—I feared that Laurence was going into your room—I watched him go; and then, putting on a long waterproof cloak, and drawing the hood over my head to look like the monk, I followed him. It was I who put the pocket-book back."

"How did you manage it?" with a smile.

"You see, you had left your window a little open. I climbed the thick ivy that runs up the wall—I had often done it when a child—slipped my hand between the bars of the window, and put the book upon the table."

"But you forgot to raise your hand in warning; and ghosts are not generally in such a hurry, I think, to say nothing of the size of the hand."

"It was a scramble; did you hear me fall?"

"I heard a little 'Oh!'"

"Then you did know?"

"I knew Verschoyle had a very good sister."

"Allan, I do not think he suspects. Ought I not to tell him the truth?"

"Not yet. Since the impression has worked such good effects, as well let him remain under it for a while. Time enough to knock down the scaffolding when the building is completed—eh, darling?"

"How did you manage it?"