"Lady Brooke, miss."

"Is she in any way related to the late Mrs. Richborough, do you know?"

"I've never seen them together, miss, and I should say it's very unlikely. Lady Brooke is a very exclusive lady."

"She did tell the chauffeur Runhill Court, didn't she?"

"No, miss-Arundel," was the surprised answer.

Isbel was greatly perplexed, but thought it wise to ask no more questions about her. She inquired for, and was directed to the nearest hiring garage in the neighbourhood of the hotel.

It had entered her mind that she, too, must go to Runhill, though what she expected to accomplish by so doing, she had no idea…that the door-porter must have received certain instructions-or, perhaps he had mistaken the person she had referred to. She knew that it was either Mrs. Richborough or her twin-sister. And she knew that that woman had said "Runhill Court." It was absolutely necessary and important that she should follow her there, to see what was on foot…And, of course, Mr. Judge must be waiting for her there…and it was all lies! lies! lies!

She was lucky in getting a landaulette at once. Money was of no account to her, she agreed to the charge demanded without demur, and within five minutes was on her way.

The car was badly sprung, and jolted her abominably; the cushions stank of oil; her tooth started to ache again. Although it was not actually raining, the day was gloomy and forbidding, and everything seemed saturated with damp. Water dripped from the trees. The roads were greasy and they kept skidding. Not a single gleam of light sky promised better things. Isbel squeezed herself in a corner, and closed her eyes.

After passing Steyning, she roused herself. The chauffeur seemed an utter idiot-his work was in this part of the country, and yet he was forever pulling up to ask her for directions. She told him as well as she could…Would this terrible journey never come to an end?…

At last they reached the lane which ran past the lodge. Here the road forked. One lane went by the lodge; the other, which she did not know, appeared to skirt the western boundary of the estate, going due north somewhere. The chauffeur stopped the car once more at this fork, and Isbel was about to direct him to proceed straight forward when suddenly her eyes rested on a fashionably-dressed woman in furs, who ws walking quickly but delicately up the second lane, away from them. She was about twenty yards ahead, and was alone…it was she…So he had lied, that porter!…But, oh heavens! what an appalling resemblance to Mrs. Richborough. She could pick up that step out of a thousand others…Then she wasn't dead. The whole thing was a conspiracy, directed against her, Isbel. Judge had fallen a victim to that woman at last, and they were quietly putting her out of the way, as an inconvenient person. The hotel manager had been bribed. There was really nothing left to explain…

"You needn't come any further. I'm getting out." Isbel suited the action to the word.

The man looked dissatisfied. "Am I to wait?"

"No, you can go home. Do I pay you, or the garage?"

Being a casual hirer she had to pay him. She hurriedly gave him notes to cover the charge, and, without waiting for the change, or interesting herself in his further movements, at once turned her back on him and started quickly up the lane, round the bend of which the unknown woman had by this time vanished.

She reached the bend herself. The disagreeable noise of the departing car grew fainter and fainter as the distance increased between them, until finally she heard no sounds but those of nature. Everything around her was moist, dripping, and sullen…Mrs. Richborough-for she had now no doubt that it was she-was still a considerable distance in front. They were both walking swiftly, so there was no question of catching her up. Isbel did not quite understand where she was going to, but probably there was another way into the grounds from this side, which would obviate the necessity of passing through the lodge-gate…But, if so, how had that woman come to know of it? And, by the way, where had her car disappeared to?…Isbel asked herself many questions during that period, but she was unable to answer any one of them.

The whole right-hand side of the lane was bordered by an ancient, red-brick wall which bounded the estate. Beyond it was a park, looking grey and disconsolate enough on such a day as this; the wet grass was knee-high, and every faintest breath of wind brought water off the brown-leaved trees. The park sloped downhill from the lane at first, but presently it became level. A dark grey shadowy mass on the forward right was probably the house itself; very likely it was not so far away as it looked, but the light was so bad…Suddenly half-way along a straight stretch of lane, her quarry vanished…

Isbel was careful to keep her eye on the spot where she had last observed her. No doubt there would be an entrance there into the grounds.

Upon coming up to it she found her anticipation was realised. A small iron wicket-gate opened into the park. It had been swung to, but was unlatched. A gravel walk, barely wide enough for two people side by side, led through the grass and under trees towards what could now distinctly be seen to be the house. It was slightly uphill. Isbel passed in without hesitation.

After walking quickly for about five minutes, she again saw the woman. She was as far ahead as ever. She had reached the foot of the steep sloping lawn under the house, and now turned sharply to the left, which would evidently bring her to the north-east side of the building-though how she could be so certain of her direction on this, her first visit to the grounds, was more than Isbel could say. The house itself was by this time quite close. Standing high above her, in the grey mist, it looked a huge, weird erection, the more especially as it was a mere silhouette. The part which faced her must be the back-the French windows of the dining-room, the bedrooms of the top storey, etc…But the time that Isbel had gained of the same spot, beneath the lawn, the woman had again disappeared. She also turned to the left.

The path curved, and in another minute or two she was in full view of the north-east front. The lawn, which was still steeper on this side, towered above her in that dime visibility like a veritable mountain slope, and crowning it was the great house, vast, shadowy, and grim. She could just make out the gable underneath which was the window of the East Room.

While she paused to gaze up, she became aware that the woman was standing close beside her. Then her doubts were remove. It was Mrs. Richborough!…there was something disquieting and peculiar in her appearance, however…Perhaps it was the way she was standing. Her hands were free, and they crossed, not over her breast but over the lower part of her body, with straightened elbows. She was also very erect and still. Her face appeared white and smiling, under the decorative veil she wore-but perhaps it was illusion, the light wsa so poor. Isbel felt a strange uneasiness.

"They told me at the hotel that-something happened to you."

"Oh, yes-I am dead," came the whispering voice. "I died last night."

And then Isbel realised that her eyes ere closed, that this being standing opposite to her, with the dress and bearing of a fashionable woman, did not see the world as other people!…

Her tongue was paralysed, and she shook from head to foot.

The apparition vanished.