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“Fo’ de lub ob Hebben!” gasped Joshua, awakened out of a sound sleep, and scared almost out of his wits. “Marse Hunter! Marse Hunter! Whar yo’ at?”

“Here,” answered Douglas. “Turn on the hall light; then come to me.”

Obediently Joshua groped his way to the button and switched on the light, after which he hastened into the library and did the same there. Douglas, who sat on the floor nursing a bleeding nose, blinked as the strong light met his dazed eyes.

“Did you see anyone leave this room, Joshua?” he demanded.

“No, suh.” The butler’s eyes were rolling about to an alarming extent, showing the whites against his black face, which had grown gray with fright. “’Twarn’t no one ter see—it must ter been a harnt.”

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Douglas heatedly. The telephone bell was keeping up a dull clicking as the sleepy central tried to find out what was wanted, and he leaned over and replaced the receiver on the hook as he picked up the instrument. “No ghost put out your hall light, and no ghost wears clothes. I caught the intruder’s gown, and if it hadn’t ripped away I’d have caught her.” As he spoke he opened his right hand and disclosed a torn piece of oriental silk.