his concern there persisted a note almost of triumph.
"It is there!" he cried. "It is close to us, watching us, powerless to touch either you or me. But this unhappy sceptic proved an easy victim."
"Would to God I had listened to you yesterday," said Sir Walter. "Then this innocent man had not perhaps been snatched from life."
"You were directed not to listen. Your heart was hardened. His hour had come."
"I cannot believe it. We may restore him. It is impossible that he can be dead in a moment."
They stood over the detective, and Masters and Fred Caunter, with courage and presence of mind, carried him out into the corridor.
The butler spoke.
"Run for the brandy, Fred," he said. "We must get some down his neck if we can. I don't feel the gentleman's heart, but it may not have stopped. He's warm enough."
The footman obeyed, and Hardcastle was laid upon his back. Then Sir Walter directed Masters.
"Hold his head up. It may be better for him."
They waited, and, during the few moments before Caunter returned, Sir Walter spoke again. His mind wandered backward and seemed for the moment incapable of grasping the fact before him.
"Almost the last thing the man said was to ask me why ghosts haunted the night rather than the day."
