Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1910-07-05


II do not believe in ghosts" said
John Slade emphatically.
Daniel Gilbert drew his chair nearer
to the cracking blaze.
II never believed In ghosts-until
last year." he said quietly.
what happened last yearT Shades
tone was skeptical.
II saw ghost"
Where had you been dining"
laughed Slade.
II hadn't dined at all. came down
to the Elms quite unexpectedly. l
wanted to look up some papers that |
knew to be In the library. The house
had been closed all summer, and at
this time even the caretaker was away
for few days.
"My plan was to dine at the village
inn. go up to the Elms, spend the even
ing searching for the papers, sleep In
my old room and take the first train
to town after breakfast. My train
was several hours late. and when we
arrived In Elmville the Inn was shut
up for the night. If you are acquaint-
ed with our village boniface you will
understand that for neither love nor
money or 'auld lang syne' would he
open his doors to guest after mid
night. So it meant a dlnnerless tramp
up to the house.
1T was nearly o'clock when l en-
tered the avenue and was surprised
to find the iron gates Of the drive wide
open. That was against my orders
ut was n dark night. The stars
shone brightly, and young moon
threw a thin silver veil Of light in the
open spaces. AS l came in sight OF
the house stopped still in my tracks" "
"You may not believe me. John. but
my house was blaze of light from
basement to cupola. and from behind
the lighted windows came the strains
of an orchestra, while forms 6oated to
and fro In swaying rhythm to the
waltz melody.
LAS ! stood rooted to the spot the
church clock In the village struck once,
and as If by magic the music ceased
and all motion stopped behind the thin
curtains An instant later every light
In the house died out us If extin5uish-
ed by some mighty breath. ran up
the steps and fitted my key in the
great lock. 1t yielded. and the heavy
door swung outward to my touch.
81 threw ray Of light about the
great entrance hall and reached for
the button to switch en the electric
lights. The button clicked without re-
sponse. Again and again tried, but
in vain.
"a search of the drawing room and
library revealed the same condition.
The current was shut off and probably
had been since the departure OF the
caretaker.
81 lighted the large oil lamp on the
library table. It was an easy matter
to dig out the documents ! wanted
and store them into my leather bag.
AS | set the bag on the floor | saw
lying on the Turkish rug a white rose.
fresh and fragrant as If just plucked.
This was no earthly blossom | de-
cided as | laid It before me on the Ia
BILE. And then had another shock,
for almost under my hand and in the
very spot on which had placed my
bag when entering the room was a
small lace handkerchief. Across one
corner was embroidered In tiny letters
a girls name"
Gilbert blew cloud Of smoke that
obscured his face John Slade leaned
forward In his chair.
"And the name-the girls name" he
asked quickly.
"viola-just VIOLA" said Gilbert
dream mily.
"That Is not all Of the story" said
Slade impatiently. $50 on. old man.
"No; that is not all. turued TO
the mantelpiece and leaned my head
against the high shelf. trying TO solve
the mystery Of my house. for to my
knowledge no woman save the care
taker. an old black nanny. had DARK
ened-or shall ! say brightened?-my
doors for several years.
"When | turned back to the table
the handkerchief was gone!
with hardly thought as to whether
/ was seeking shadow or substance !
A.. A. .a,o In nv porI,o and