Then at last Marianne looked him in the face. But only for a moment; he caught her in his arms, and her eyes closed as his lips found hers.

He let her go at last, but only to fold her close and press her head against his breast.

"I will give you the spirit of Mrs. Jay," he said, breathless with laughter and another, more satisfactory, emotion. "But I really must insist on no more experiments with the occult. It is all nonsense, my dear; absolute balderdash, as the doctor used to… What is the matter with you?"

Marianne shook her head dizzily. "But that is what he said," she stuttered.

"I know he did. I was quoting him."

"No, no. That is what he said just before I went into one of those spells you were talking about. I remember now. For an instant, when you spoke the words, I felt quite giddy."

"Ah, so that was it. Posthypnotic suggestion, according to MacGregor; and that was the key phrase that would send you tumbling into your trance. All explained rationally and scientifically, you see. No spirits."

"All but one thing," Marianne said. They linked arms and began strolling up and down before the castle, reluctant to resume the mundane duties that awaited them.

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Mr. Holmes. How did he know to come back just when he did?"

Carlton looked utterly taken aback. "The anniversary of his death?" he hazarded.

"Why this one? There have been many others. Oh, I know what you are going to say – the newspaper story. But can you imagine Mr. Holmes, or any of the other priests, reading that scandalous sheet?"

"He had been staying at the inn for some days," Carlton muttered.

"That only makes his presence more remarkable. He knew, Roger. And you must admit that, but for him, the doctor would still be free and enjoying his legacy. You could never have proved him guilty of anything."

"Curse it." Carlton scowled. "Give me time. I'll think of an explanation."

"I am sure you will," Marianne said.

Barbara Michaels