The Ghost of Guir House

The following morning, Mr. Henley was puzzled, in thinking over the

conversation of the previous night, to remember that he had not been

alarmed at the revelations which Ah Ben had made. The things he had

seen and the words he had heard were amazing, but they had not

terrified him; and when he recalled the easy and natural manner in

which he had talked, he attributed the fact to the same mental change

whereby he had perceived the visions.

The breakfast room was deserted, neither Dorothy nor Ah Ben being

present; and so Paul partook of the meal alone, which he found

prepared as usual. He lingered over his second cup of tea in the hope

that the young lady would join him; but after loitering quite beyond

the usual hour, he sauntered out into the garden, trusting to find

her there. But Dorothy was nowhere to be seen, and Henley sank

dejectedly into the old rustic bench to await her coming.

An hour passed, but no token of a human being was in evidence; not

even the voice nor the footstep of a servant had been heard, and Paul

sat consuming cigarettes at a rate that showed clearly his

impatience. At last he returned to the house, and going to his room

took pen and paper and wrote, in a large hand: Will Miss Guir kindly let me know at what hour I may see her?

I shall await her answer in the garden.

PAUL HENLEY.

Not being able to find a servant, he took this downstairs and

suspended it from the hanging lamp by a thread, and then returned to

the garden to tramp up and down the neglected paths, between the

boxwood bushes, and to burn more cigarettes. He had not the slightest

hope of finding Ah Ben, as that individual never put in an appearance

until the day was far spent--in fact, not generally until after the

shadows of evening were well advanced; and the only servant he had

seen was the dumb boy alluded to, and even he had only appeared

occasionally. Clearly there was nothing to do but wait. But waiting

brought neither Dorothy nor Ah Ben, and Paul began to wonder

seriously where his hosts could have taken themselves. The time wore

on, and the shadow of a tall fir showed that the hour of noon had

passed. Had he been left in sole possession of this old mansion,

whose history was so amazing, and yet whose very existence appeared

mythical? He wandered back into the house, and passing through the

hall, stopped suddenly. His note was gone. Surely it had been taken,

for it could not have fallen. Examining the lamp, Henley saw that a

short end of the thread was hanging, indicating that it had been

broken and the note carried away. Some one had passed through the

building since he had left it. Could it have been the girl? and if

so, why had she avoided him? One thing appeared certain; she would

know where to expect his letters, and he would now write another. In

twenty minutes he had prepared the following, which, having sealed,

he again suspended from the lamp in the hall: DEAREST GIRL--I have waited all the morning to see you, and am

growing fearfully impatient. Is it business or pleasure that keeps

you away? Why not tell me frankly just what it is, as I can not

bear to think that I am avoided from indifference, or because you

are getting tired of me. Have I outstayed my welcome at Guir House?

I entreat you to give me an answer and an interview, as I am so

lonely without you; just how lonely I will tell you when we meet.