They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. Open the window, Thames, and call for assistance. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. Wood entered the room, followed by Thames. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still.
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