closed it slowly with a sigh of incredible relief. Then I turned back into the room. I was content to be alone for a little while.

Great God! The chair which Rosa had but that instant left was not empty. Occupying it was a figure — the figure of the man whose portrait hung on the wall — the figure of the man who had haunted me ever since I met Rosa — the figure of Lord Clarenceux, whom Rosa had seen dead.

At last, oh, powers of hell, I knew you! The inmost mystery stood clear. In one blinding flash of comprehension I felt the fullness of my calamity. This man that I had seen was not a man, but a malign and jealous spirit — using his spectral influences to crush the mortals bold enough to love the woman whom he had loved on earth. The death of Alresca, the