FROM 
 OUT THE VASTY 
 
 Mrs. Belloc Lowndes 
 

 
 <o 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES 
 
By MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES 
 
 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 THE LONELY HOUSE 
 GOOD OLD ANNA 
 
 LOVE AND HATRED 
 / 
 
 LILLA: A PART OF HER LIFE 
 THE RED CROSS BARGE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
FROM OUT THE 
 VASTY DEEP 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE LONELY HOUSE," "LOVE AND HATRED,' 
 "GOOD OLD ANNA," "THE CHINK IN THE ARMOUR," ETC. 
 
 NEW ^SW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1921, 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
TO 
 A. H. FASS 
 
 The owner of the real "Wyndfell Hall' 
 
 in memory of 
 
 many happy hours spent there 
 by his friend the writer 
 
 428095 
 
Glendower : 
 
 ff l can call spirits from the vasty deep" 
 
 Hotspur : 
 
 "Why, so can I; or so can any man : 
 But will they come, when you do call for them?" 
 
 HENRY IV. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY 
 DEEP 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 I ALWAYS thought that you, Pegler, were such a very 
 sensible woman." 
 
 The words were said in a good-natured, though slightly 
 vexed tone; and a curious kind of smile flitted over the 
 rather grim face of the person to whom they were 
 addressed. 
 
 "I've never troubled you before in this exact way, have 
 I, ma'am?" 
 
 "No, Pegler. That you certainly have not." 
 
 Miss Farrow looked up from the very comfortable arm- 
 chair where she was sitting leaning back, with her neatly 
 shod, beautifully shaped feet stretched out to the log fire. 
 Her maid was standing a little to the right, her spare 
 figure and sallow face lit up by the flickering, shooting 
 flames, for the reading-lamp at Miss Farrow's elbow was 
 heavily shaded. 
 
 "D'you really mean that you won't sleep next door to- 
 night, Pegler?" 
 
 "I wouldn't be fit to do my work to-morrow if I did, 
 ma'am." And Miss Farrow quite understood that that 
 
 ii 
 
12 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 wis/Pegler's projite; way of saying that she most definitely 
 .did refuse to sfeep'in the room next door. 
 '.; *J;w&hjthe ghost haicome in here, instead of worrying 
 you !" As the maid made no answer to this observation, 
 her mistress went on, turning round so that she could look 
 up into the woman's face : "What was it exactly you did 
 see, Pegler?" And as the other still remained silent, Miss 
 Farrow added: "I really do want to know! You see, 
 Pegler well, I need hardly tell you that I have a very 
 great opinion of you." 
 
 And then, to the speaker's extreme surprise, there came 
 a sudden change over Pegler 's face. Her pale countenance 
 flushed, it became discomposed, and she turned her head 
 away to hide the springing tears. 
 
 Miss Farrow was touched; as much touched as her 
 rather hard nature would allow her to be. This woman 
 had been her good and faithful friend, as well as servant, 
 for over twelve years. 
 
 She sprang up from her deep chair with the lightness 
 of a girl, though she was over forty ; and went and took 
 the other's hand. "Pegler!" she exclaimed. "What's the 
 matter, you dear old thing?" 
 
 But Pegler wrenched away her hand, rather ungra- 
 ciously. "After two such nights as I've had," she mut- 
 tered, "it's no wonder I'm a bit upset." 
 
 Excellent maid though she was Miss Farrow had 
 never known anyone who could do hair as Pegler could 
 the woman was in some ways very unconventional, very 
 unlike an ordinary lady's maid. 
 
 "Now do tell me exactly what happened ?" Miss Far- 
 row spoke with a mixture of coaxing and kindly authority. 
 "What do you think you saw? I need hardly tell you 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 13 
 
 that 7 don't believe in ghosts." As the maid well knew, 
 the speaker might have finished the sentence with "or in 
 anything else." But that fact, Pegler being the manner 
 of woman she was, did not detract from the affection and 
 esteem in which she held her lady. You can't have every- 
 thing such was her simple philosophy and religious 
 people do not always act up to their profession. Miss 
 Farrow, at any rate in her dealings with Pegler, was 
 always better than her word. She was a kind, a consid- 
 erate, and an intelligent mistress. 
 
 So it was that, reluctantly, Pegler made up her mind 
 to speak. "I'd like to say, ma'am," she began, "that no 
 one said nothing to me about that room being -haunted. 
 You was the first that mentioned it to me, after I'd 
 spoken to you yesterday. As you know, ma'am, the 
 servants here are a job lot ; they don't know nothing about 
 the house. 'Twasn't till to-day that one of the village 
 people, the woman at the general shop and post office, let 
 on that Wyndfell Hall was well known to be a ghosty 
 place." 
 
 There was a pause, and then Pegler added : "Still, as 
 you and I well know, ma'am, tales don't lose nothing in 
 the telling." 
 
 "Indeed they don't! Never mind what the people in 
 the village say. This kind of strange, lonely, beautiful 
 old house is sure to be 'said to be haunted. What / want 
 to know is what you think you saw, Pegler " The 
 speaker looked sharply into the woman's face. 
 
 "I don't like to see you standing, ma'am," said Pegler 
 inconsequently. "If you'll sit down in your chair again 
 I'll tell you what happened to me." 
 
 Miss Farrow sank gracefully down into her deep, com- 
 
i 4 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 fortable chair. Again she put out her feet to the fire, for 
 it was very cold on this 23rd of December, and she knew 
 she had a tiring, probably a boring, evening before her. 
 Some strangers of whom she knew nothing, and cared 
 less, excepting that they were the friends of her friend 
 and host, Lionel Varick, were to arrive at Wyndfell Hall 
 in time for dinner. It was now six o'clock. 
 
 "Well," she said patiently, "begin at the beginning, Peg- 
 ler. I wish you'd sit down too somehow it worries me 
 to see you standing there. You'll be tempted to cut your 
 story short." 
 
 Pegler smiled a thin little smile. In the last twelve years 
 Miss Farrow had several times invited her to sit down, 
 but of course she had always refused, being one that knew 
 her place. She had only sat in Miss Farrow's presence 
 during the days and nights when she had nursed her 
 mistress through a serious illness then, of course, every- 
 thing had been different, and she had had to sit down 
 sometimes. 
 
 "The day before yesterday that is the evening Miss 
 Bubbles arrived, ma'am after I'd dressed you and you'd 
 gone downstairs, and I'd unpacked for Miss Bubbles, I 
 went into my room and thought how pleasant it looked. 
 The curtains was drawn, and there was a nice fire, as you 
 know, ma'am, which Mr. Varick so kindly ordered for 
 me, and which I've had the whole week. Also, I will say 
 for Annie that even if she is a temporary, she is a good 
 housemaid, making the girls under her do their work 
 properly." 
 
 Pegler drew a long breath. Then she went on again : 
 "I sat down just for a minute or two, and I turned over 
 queer so queer, ma'am, that I went and drew the cur- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 15 
 
 tains of one of the windows. Of course it's a much bigger 
 room than I'm generally accustomed to occupy, as you 
 know, ma'am. And I just threw up the window it's 
 what they call a guillotine window and there I saw the 
 water, you know, ma'am, in what they call the moat " 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Farrow languidly. "Yes, Pegler, 
 go on." 
 
 "As I looked down, ma'am, I had an awful turn. There 
 seemed to me to be something floating about in the water, 
 a little narrow thing like a child's body and and all on 
 a sudden a small white face seemed to look up into mine ! 
 Oh, it was 'orrible !" Pegler did not often drop an aitch, 
 but when she did so forget herself, she did it thoroughly. 
 
 "As I went on looking, fascinated-like" she was speak- 
 ing very slowly now "whatever was down there seemed 
 to melt away. I didn't say nothing that evening of what 
 had happened to me, but I couldn't keep myself from 
 thinking of it. Well, then, ma'am, as you know, I came 
 and undressed you, and I asked you if you'd like the door 
 kept open between our two rooms. But you said no, 
 ma'am, you'd rather it was shut. So then I went to bed." 
 
 "And you say you admit, Pegler that nothing did 
 happen the' night before last ?" 
 
 Pegler hesitated. "Nothing happened exactly," she 
 said. "But I had the most awful feeling, ma'am. And 
 yes well, something did happen! I heard a kind of 
 rustling in the room. Jt would leave off for a time, and 
 then begin again. I tried to put it down to a mouse or a 
 rat or something of that sort." 
 
 "That," said Miss Farrow quietly, "was probably what 
 it was, Pegler." 
 
 As if she had not heard her lady's remark, the maid 
 
1 6 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 went on: "I'd go off to sleep, and then suddenly, I'd 
 awake and hear this peculiar rustle, ma* am, like a dress 
 swishing along an old-fashioned, rich, soft silk, such 
 as ladies wore in the old days, when I was a child. But 
 that dress, the dress I heard rustling, ma'am, was a bit 
 older than that." 
 
 "What do you mean, Pegler?" 
 
 The maid remained silent, her eyes were fixed; it was 
 as if she had forgotten where she was. 
 
 "And what exactly happened last night ?" 
 
 "Last night," said Pegler, drawing a long breath, "last 
 night, ma'am I know you won't believe me but I saw 
 the spirit !" 
 
 Miss Farrow looked up into the woman's face with an 
 anxious, searching glance. 
 
 She felt disturbed and worried. A great deal of her 
 material comfort almost, she might have truly said, 
 much of her happiness in life depended on Jane Pegler. 
 In a sense Blanche Farrow had but two close friends in 
 the world her host, Lionel Varick, the new owner of 
 Wyndfell Hall ; and the plain, spare, elderly woman stand- 
 ing now before her. She realized with a sharp pang of 
 concern what Pegler's mental defection would mean to 
 her. It would be dreadful, dreadful, if Pegler began see- 
 ing ghosts, and turning hysterical. 
 
 "What was the spirit like ?" she asked quietly. 
 
 And then, all at once, she had to suppress a violent in- 
 clination to burst out laughing. For Pegler answered with 
 a kind of cry, "A 'orrible happarition, ma'am!" 
 
 Miss Farrow could not help observing a trifle satir- 
 ically : "That certainly sounds most unpleasant." 
 
 But Pegler went on, speaking with a touch of excite- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 17 
 
 ment very unusual with her: "It was a woman a 
 woman with a dreadful, wicked, spiteful face! Once she 
 came up close to my bed, and I wanted to scream out, 
 but I couldn't my throat seemed shut up." 
 
 "D'you mean you actually saw what you took to be a 
 ghost?" 
 
 "I did see a ghost, ma'am; not a doubt of it! She 
 walked up and down that room in there, wringing her 
 hands all the time I'd heard the expression, ma'am, but 
 I'd never seen anyone do it" 
 
 "Did anything else happen?" 
 
 "At last she went over to the window, and and I'm 
 afraid you won't believe me, ma'am but there seemed 
 no curtains there any more, nothing but just an opening 
 into the darkness. I saw her bend over " An ex- 
 pression of terror came over the woman's face. 
 
 "But how could you see her," asked Miss Farrow 
 quickly, "if there was no light in the room?" 
 
 "In a sort of way," said Pegler sombrely, "the spirit 
 was supplying the light, as it were. I could see her in the 
 darkness, as if she was a lamp moving about." 
 
 "Oh, Pegler, Pegler!" exclaimed Miss Farrow 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 "It's true, ma'am! It's true as I'm standing here." 
 Pegler would have liked to add the words "So help me 
 God !" but somehow she felt that these words would not 
 carry any added conviction to her mistress. And, indeed, 
 they would not have done so, for Miss Farrow, though 
 she was much too polite and too well-bred ever to have 
 said so, even to herself, did not believe in a Supreme Be- 
 ing. She was a complete materialist. 
 
1 8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "And then, ma'am, after a bit, there it would begin, 
 constant-like, all over again." 
 
 "I don't understand. . . ." 
 
 "I'd go to sleep, and tell myself maybe that it was all 
 a dream argue with myself, ma'am, for I'm a sensible 
 woman. And then all at once I'd hear that rustle again ! 
 I'd try not to open my eyes, but somehow I felt I must 
 see what was happening. So I'd look at last and there 
 she'd be! Walking up and down, walking up and down, 
 her face oh, ma'am, her face staring-like most 'orrible 
 and wringing her hands. Then she'd go over to the win- 
 dow, lean out, and disappear, down into the black water!" 
 
 In a calmer tone Pegler added : "The moat used to be 
 much bigger and deeper than it is now, ma'am so they 
 all say." 
 
 "All?" said Miss Farrow sharply. "Who do you mean 
 by 'all'?" 
 
 "The people about the place, ma'am." 
 
 "I can't help wishing, Pegler, that you hadn't told this 
 strange story to the servants. You see it makes it so 
 awkward for Mr. Varick." 
 
 Pegler flushed uncomfortably. "I was that scared," 
 she murmured, "that I felt I must tell somebody, and if 
 you tell one, as I did, you tell all. I'm sorry I did it, 
 ma'am, for I'm afraid I've inconvenienced you." 
 
 "It can't be helped," said Miss Farrow good-naturedly. 
 "I know you wouldn't have done it if you could have 
 helped it, Pegler. But of course in a way it's unlucky." 
 
 "I've pointed out to them all that there never is but 
 one room haunted in a house as a rule," said the maid 
 eagerly, "and I think they all quite sees that, ma'am. Be- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 19 
 
 sides, they're very pleased with Mr. Varick. You know 
 what he did to-day, ma'am?" 
 
 "No," said Miss Farrow, looking up and smiling, "what 
 did he do?" 
 
 "He called them all together, without distinction of 
 class, so to speak, ma'am, and he told them that if he was 
 pleased with the way in which his Chrismas party went 
 off, he'd give them each a five-pound note at the end of 
 the month. It made them forget the haunted room, I can 
 tell you, ma'am !" She added grudgingly, "He is a kind 
 gentleman, and no mistake." 
 
 "Indeed he is ! I'm glad that you see that now, Pegler." 
 Miss Farrow spoke with a touch of meaning in her voice. 
 "I did a very good turn for myself when I got him out 
 of that queer scrape years ago." 
 
 "Why yes, ma'am, I suppose you did." But Pegler's 
 tone was not as hearty as that of her lady. 
 
 There was a pause. "Then what have you settled to do 
 about to-night?" 
 
 "If you don't mind, ma'am I'm arranging to sleep in 
 what they call the second maid's room. There is a bell 
 through, ma'am, but you'll have to go into the next room 
 to ring it, for you know, ma'am, that it's the next room 
 that ought to have been your room by rights." 
 
 "I wish now that I'd taken it and put you in here," said 
 Miss Farrow ruefully. 
 
 "They're going to keep up a good fire there. So when 
 you go in you won't get a chill." 
 
 'That does seem luxurious," said Miss Farrow, smiling. 
 She loved luxury, and it was pleasant to think that there 
 should be a fire kept up in an empty room just so that she 
 
20 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 shouldn't feel a chill when she went in for a moment to 
 ring for her maid ! 
 
 "By the way, I hope there's a fireplace in your room, 
 Pegler" the words were uttered solicitously. 
 
 "No, there isn't, ma'am. But I don't mind that. I 
 don't much care about a fire." 
 
 "There's no accounting for taste!" 
 
 Miss Farrow took up her book again, and Pegler, as 
 was her way, slid noiselessly from the room not through 
 the door leading into the haunted chamber, but out on to 
 the beautiful panelled landing, now gay with bowls of hot- 
 house flowers which' had come down from London that 
 morning by passenger train, and been brought by car all 
 the way from Newmarket. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 ^T^HE book Miss Farrow held in her hand was an 
 X amusing book, the latest volume of some rather 
 lively French memoirs, but she put it down after a very 
 few moments, and, leaning forward, held out her hands 
 to the fire. They were not pretty hands: though small 
 and well-shaped, there was something just a little claw- 
 like about them; but they were very white, and her al- 
 mond-shaped nails, admirably manicured, gleamed in the 
 soft red light. 
 
 Yes, in spite of this stupid little contretemps about Peg- 
 ler, she was glad indeed that circumstances over which 
 she had had rather more control than she liked to think 
 had made it impossible for her to go out to Monte Carlo 
 this winter. She had been sharply vexed, beside herself 
 with annoyance, almost tempted to do what she had never 
 yet done that is, to ask Lionel Varick, now so delight- 
 fully prosperous, to lend her a couple of hundred pounds. 
 But she had resisted the impulse, and she was now glad 
 of it. 
 
 After all, there's no place like dear old England at 
 Christmas time. How much nicer, too, is a bachelor host 
 than a hostess! A bachelor host? No, not exactly a 
 bachelor host, for Lionel Varick was a widower. Twice 
 a widower, if the truth were known. But the truth, for- 
 tunately, is not always known, and Blanche Farrow 
 doubted if any other member of the circle of friends and 
 
 21 
 
22 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 acquaintances he had picked up in his adventurous, curious 
 life knew of that first now evidently by him almost for- 
 gotten marriage. It had taken place years ago, when 
 Varick was still a very young man, and to a woman not 
 of his own class. They had separated, and then, rather 
 oddly, come together again. Even so, her premature 
 death had been for him a fortunate circumstance. 
 
 It was not Varick who had told Blanche Farrow of that 
 painful episode of his past life. The story had come to 
 her knowledge in a curious, accidental fashion, and she 
 had thought it only fair to tell him what she had learned 
 and then, half reluctantly, he had revealed something of 
 what he had suffered through that early act of folly. But 
 they had only spoken of it once. 
 
 Varick' s second marriage, Miss Farrow was almost 
 tempted to call it his real marriage, the news of which he 
 had conveyed to his good friend in a laconic note, had 
 surprised her very much. 
 
 The news had found her far away, in Portugal, where, 
 as just a few English people know, there is more than one 
 Casino where mild gambling can be pursued under pleas- 
 ant conditions. Blanche Farrow would have been hurt if 
 someone had told her that in far-away Portugal Lionel 
 Varick and his affairs had not meant quite so much to her 
 as they would have done if she had been nearer home. 
 Still, she had felt a pang. A man-friend married is often 
 a man-friend marred. But she had been very glad to 
 gather, reading between the lines of his note, that the lady 
 in question was well off. Varick was one of those men 
 to whom the possession of money is as essential to life 
 as the air they breathe is to most human beings. Till this 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 23 
 
 unexpected second marriage of his he had often been 
 obliged to live on, and by, his wits. 
 
 Then, some months later for she and Varick were not 
 given to writing to one another when apart, their friend- 
 ship had never been of that texture she had received a 
 sad letter from him saying that his wife was seriously ill. 
 The letter had implied, too, that he ought to have been 
 told, before the marriage had taken place, that his wife's 
 family had been one riddled with consumption. Blanche 
 had written back at once by that time she was a good 
 deal nearer home than Portugal, though still abroad 
 asking if she could "do anything?" And he had answered 
 that no, there was nothing to be done. "Poor Milly" 
 had a horror of sanatoriums, so he was going to take her 
 to some quiet place on the south coast. He had ended 
 his note with the words : "I do not think it can last long 
 now, and I rather hope it won't. It is very painful for 
 her, as well as for me." And it had not lasted very long. 
 Seven weeks later Miss Farrow had read in the first 
 column of the Times the announcement : "Millicent, only 
 daughter of the late George Fauncey, of Wyndfell Hall, 
 Suffolk, and the beloved wife of Lionel Varick/' 
 
 She had been surprised at the addition of the word "be- 
 loved." Somehow it was not like the man she thought 
 she knew so well to put that word in. 
 
 That was just over a year ago. But when she had met 
 Varick again she had seen with real relief that he was 
 quite unchanged those brief months of wedded life had 
 not apparently altered him at all. There was, however, 
 one great difference he was quite at ease about money. 
 That was all but that was a great deal ! Blanche Farrow 
 and Lionel Varick had at any rate one thing in common 
 
24 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 they both felt a horror of poverty, and all that poverty 
 implies. 
 
 Gradually Miss Farrow had discovered a few partic- 
 ulars about her friend's dead wife. Millicent Fauncey 
 had been the only child of a rather eccentric Suffolk squire, 
 a man of great taste, known in the art world of London 
 as a collector of fine Jacobean furniture, long before Ja- 
 cobean furniture had become the rage. After her father's 
 death his daughter, having let Wyndfell Hall, had wan- 
 dered about the world with a companion till she had 
 drifted across her future husband's path at an hotel in 
 Florence. 
 
 "What attracted me," Lionel Varick had explained 
 rather awkwardly on the only occasion when he had really 
 talked of his late wife to Blanche Farrow, "was her help- 
 lessness, and, yes, a kind of simplicity." 
 
 Blanche had looked at him a little sharply. She had 
 never known Lionel attracted by weakness or simplicity 
 before. All women seemed attracted by him but he was 
 by no means attracted by all women. 
 
 "Poor Milly didn't care for Wyndfell Hall," he had 
 gone on, "for she spent a very lonely, dull girlhood there. 
 But it's a delightful place, and I hope to live there as 
 soon as I can get the people out to whom it is now let. 
 'Twon't be an easy job, for they're devoted to it." 
 
 Of course he had got them out very soon, for, as 
 Blanche Farrow now reminded herself, Lionel Varick had 
 an extraordinary power of getting his own way, in little 
 and big things alike. 
 
 It was uncommonly nice of Lionel to have asked her 
 to be informal hostess of his first house party ! Unluckily 
 it was an oddly composed party, not so happily chosen as 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 25 
 
 it might have been, and she wondered uneasily whether 
 it would be a success. She had never met three of the 
 people who were coming to-night a Mr. and Miss Burn- 
 aby, an old-fashioned and, she gathered, well-to-do brother 
 and sister, and their niece, Helen Brabazon. Miss Brab- 
 azon had been an intimate friend, Miss Farrow under- 
 stood the only really intimate friend, of Lionel Varick' s 
 late wife. He had spoken of this girl, Helen Brabazon, 
 with great regard and liking with rather more regard 
 and liking than he generally spoke of any woman. 
 
 "She was most awfully kind to me during that dreadful 
 time at Redsands," he had said only yesterday. And 
 Blanche had understood the "dreadful time" referred to 
 the last weeks of his wife's life. "I've been to the Burn- 
 abys' house a few times, and I've dined there twice an 
 infamously bad cook, but very good wine you know the 
 sort of thing?" 
 
 Remembering that remark, Blanche now asked herself 
 why Lionel had included these tiresome, old-fashioned 
 people in his party. Then she told herself that it was 
 doubtless because the niece, who lived with them, couldn't 
 leave them to a solitary Christmas. 
 
 Another guest who was not likely to add much in the 
 way of entertainment to the party was an enormously 
 rich man called James Tapster. Tapster was a cynical, 
 rather unpleasant person, yet on one occasion he had 
 helped Varick out of a disagreeable scrape. 
 
 If the host had had his way there would also have been 
 in the party a certain Dr. Panton. But at the last mo- 
 ment he had had to "chuck." There was a hope, however, 
 that he might be able to come after Christmas. Dr. 
 Panton was also associated with the late Mrs. Varick. 
 
26 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 He had attended her during the last long weeks of her life. 
 
 Blanche Farrow's face unconsciously brightened as she 
 remembered Sir Lyon Dilsford. He was an intelligent, 
 impecunious, pleasant kind of man, still, like his host, on 
 the sunny side of forty. Sir Lyon was "in the City," 
 as are now so many men of his class and kind. He took 
 his work seriously, and spent many hours of each day 
 east of Temple Bar. By way of relaxation he helped 
 to run an Oxford College East-End Settlement. "A good 
 chap," that was how Blanche summed him up to herself. 
 
 Lionel had asked her if she could think of any young 
 people to ask, and she had suggested, with some hesita- 
 tion, her own niece, Bubbles Dunster, and Bubbles' fa- 
 vourite dancing partner, a young man called Bill Don- 
 nington. Bubbles had arrived at Wyndfell Hall two days 
 ago. Donnington had not been able to leave London 
 till to-day. 
 
 Bubbles? Blanche Farrow's brows knit themselves as 
 she thought of her niece, namesake, and godchild. 
 
 'Bubbles was a strange girl, but then so many girls are 
 strange nowadays ! Though an only child, and the apple 
 of her widowed father's eyes, she had deliberately left 
 her home two years ago, and set up for herself in London, 
 nominally to study art. At once she had become a great 
 success the kind of success that counts nowadays. Bub- 
 bles' photograph was always appearing in the Sketch and 
 in the Daily Mirror. She was constantly roped in to 
 help in any smart charity affair, and she could dance, act, 
 and sell, with the best. She was as popular with women 
 as with men, for there was something disarming, attach- 
 ing, almost elfish, in Bubbles Dunster's charm. For one 
 thing, she was so good-natured, so kindly, so always eager 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 27 
 
 to do someone a good turn and last, not least, she had 
 inherited her aunt's cleverness about clothes ! She dressed 
 in a way which Blanche Farrow thought ridiculously outre 
 and queer, but still, somehow, she always looked well- 
 dressed. And though she had never been taught dress- 
 making, she could make her own clothes when put to it, 
 and was always willing to help other people with theirs. 
 
 Hugh Dunster, Bubbles' father, did not often favour 
 his sister-in-law with a letter, but she had had a letter 
 from him three days ago, of which the most important 
 passage ran: "I understand that Bubbles is going to 
 spend Christmas with you. I wish you'd say a word to 
 her about all this spiritualistic rot. She seems to be 
 getting deeper and deeper into it. It's impairing her 
 looks, making her nervous and almost hysterical- in a 
 word, quite unlike herself. I spoke to her some time ago, 
 and desired her most earnestly to desist from it. But a 
 father has no power nowadays ! I have talked the matter 
 over with young Donnington (of whom I sometimes sus- 
 pect she is fonder than she knows), and he quite agrees 
 with me. After all, she's a child still, and doesn't realize 
 what vieux feu all that sort of thing is. I insisted on 
 reading to her 'Sludge, the Medium,' but it made no im- 
 pression on her ! In a sense I've only myself to thank, for 
 I used to amuse myself in testing her amazing thought- 
 reading powers when she was a little girl." 
 
 Bubbles had now been at Wyndfell Hall two whole 
 days, and so far her aunt had said nothing to her. Some- 
 how she felt a certain shyness of approaching the subject. 
 In so far as she had ever thought about it and she had 
 never really thought about it at all Miss Farrow re- 
 garded all that she knew of spiritualism as a gigantic 
 
28 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 fraud. It annoyed her fastidiousness to think that her 
 own niece should be in any way associated with that 
 kind of thing. She realized the temptation it must offer 
 to a clever girl who, as her father truly said, had had as a 
 child an uncanny power of thought-reading, and of "will- 
 ing" people to do what she liked. 
 
 Blanche Farrow smiled and sighed as she stared into 
 the fire. How the world had changed! She could not 
 imagine her own father, though he had been far less con- 
 ventional than was Hugh Dunster, talking her over with 
 a young man. 
 
 Poor Bill Donnington! Of course he was devoted to 
 Bubbles her slave, in fact. Blanche had only seen him 
 once ; she had thought him sensible, undistinguished, com- 
 monplace. She knew that he was the third or fourth son 
 of a worthy North-country parson in other words, he 
 "hadn't a bob." He was, of course, the last man Bubbles 
 would ever think of marrying. Bubbles, like most of her 
 set, was keenly alive to the value of money. Bubbles, 
 as likely as not, would make a set, half in fun, half in 
 earnest, at James Tapster! 
 
 To tell the truth, Miss Farrow had not forgotten Bub- 
 bles when she had assented to Lionel Varick's suggestion 
 that rich, if dull-witted, James Tapster should be included 
 
 in the party. 
 
 * * # # * 
 
 In what was called the moat garden of Wyndfell Hall, 
 twilight was deepening into night. But Lionel Varick, 
 who was now pacing up and down the broad path which 
 followed the course of the moat, could still see, sharply 
 outlined against the pale winter sky, the vision of tranquil 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 29 
 
 beauty and the storehouse of archaeological and anti- 
 quarian interest which was now his home. 
 
 By his special orders the windows had been left un- 
 curtained. There were lights in a great number of the 
 rooms indeed, the lower part of the house was bril- 
 liantly illuminated. But as the windows in the beautiful 
 linen-panelled hall were diamond-paned, the brilliance was 
 softened, and there was something deliciously welcoming, 
 almost fairy-like, in the picture the old house presented to 
 its new owner's eager gaze. 
 
 After a while he stayed his steps near the narrow brick 
 bridge which spanned the moat where a carriage road 
 connected the domain of Wyndfell Hall with the outside 
 world, and, as he stood there in the gathering twilight, 
 he looked a romantic figure. Tall and well-built, he took, 
 perhaps, an almost excessive care over his dress. Yet 
 there was nothing effeminate or foppish about his 
 appearance. 
 
 A follower of that now forgotten science, phrenology, 
 would have been impressed by Lionel Varick's head. It 
 was large and well-shaped, with a great deal of almost 
 golden hair, now showing a white threa'd or two, which 
 did not, however, detract from his look of youth. He had 
 a fine broad forehead; deep, well-set grey eyes; and a 
 beautiful, sensitive mouth, which he took care not to con- 
 ceal with a moustache. Thus in almost any company 
 he would have looked striking and distinguished the sort 
 of man of whom people ask, "Who is that standing over 
 there?" 
 
 Varick was a man of moods subject, that is, to fits 
 of exultation and of depression and yet with an amaz- 
 
30 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 ing power of self-control, and of entirely hiding what he 
 felt from those about him. 
 
 To-night his mood was one of exultation. He almost 
 felt what Scots call "fey." Something seemed to tell 
 him that he was within reach of the fruition of desires 
 which, even in his most confident moments, had appeared 
 till now wildly out of any possibility of attainment. He 
 came, on both his father's and his mother's side, of people 
 who had lived for centuries the secure, pleasant life of 
 the English county gentry. But instead of taking acf- 
 vantage of their opportunities, the Varicks had gone not 
 upwards, but steadily downwards the final crash having 
 been owing to the folly, indeed the far more than folly, 
 as Lionel Varick had come to know when still a child, of 
 his own father. 
 
 Lionel's father had not lived long after his disgraceful 
 bankruptcy. But he had had time to imbue his boy with 
 an intense pride in the past glories of the Varick family. 
 So it was that the shabby, ugly little villa where his boy- 
 hood had been spent on the outskirts of a town famous 
 for its grammar-school, and where his mother settled 
 for her boy's sake after her husband's death, had been 
 peopled to young Varick with visions of just such a 
 country home as was this wonderful old house now be- 
 fore him. 
 
 No wonder he felt "fey" to-night. Everything was 
 falling out as he had hoped it would do. He had staked 
 very high staked, indeed, all that a man can stake in our 
 complex civilization, and he had won ! In the whole wide 
 world there was only one human being who wished him 
 ill. This was an elderly woman, named Julia Pigchalke, 
 who had been his late wife's one-time governess and com- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 3 x 
 
 panion. She had been his enemy from the first day they 
 had met, and she had done her utmost to prevent his 
 marriage to her employer. Even now, in spite of what 
 poor Milly's own solicitor called his "thoughtful gen- 
 erosity" to Miss Pigchalke, the woman was pursuing 
 Varick with an almost insane hatred. About six months 
 ago she had called on Dr. Panton, the clever young medi- 
 cal man who had attended poor Mrs. Varick during her 
 last illness. She had formulated vague accusations against 
 Varick accusations of cruelty and neglect of so absurd 
 a nature that they refuted themselves. Miss Pigchalke's 
 behaviour was the more monstrous that she had already 
 received the first fifty pounds of the hundred-pound pen- 
 sion her friend's widower had arranged to give her. 
 
 In a will made before her marriage, the late Mrs. Varick 
 had left her companion two thousand pounds, and though 
 the legacy had been omitted from her final will, Varick 
 had of his own accord suggested that he should allow 
 Miss Pigchalke a hundred a year. She had begun by 
 sending back the first half-yearly cheque; but she had 
 finally accepted it! To-night he reminded himself with 
 satisfaction that the second fifty pounds had already been 
 sent her, and that this time she would evidently make no 
 bones about keeping the money. 
 
 Making a determined effort, he chased her sinister 
 image from his thoughts, and turned his mind to the still 
 attractive woman who was about to act as hostess to his 
 Christmas party. 
 
 His keen face softened as he thought of Blanche Far- 
 row. Poor, proud, well-bred and pleasant, poor only in 
 a relative sense, for she was the only unmarried daughter 
 of an Irish peer whose title had passed away to a distant 
 
32 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 cousin, Miss Farrow could have lived in comfort and in 
 dignity on what income she had, but for one inexplicable 
 failing the more old-fashioned and severe of her friends 
 and relatives called it a vice. 
 
 Soon after she had come into the enjoyment of her 
 few hundreds a year, some rich, idle acquaintance had 
 taken Blanche to Monte Carlo, and there, like a duck to 
 water, she had taken to play! Henceforth gambling 
 any kind of gambling had become her absorbing interest 
 in life. It was well indeed that what fortune she had was 
 strictly settled on her sisters' children, her two brothers- 
 in-law being her trustees. With one of them, who was 
 really wealthy, she had long ago quarrelled. With the 
 other, now a widower, with only a life interest in his 
 estate, she was on coldly cordial terms, and sometimes, 
 as was the case now, acted as chaperon to his only child, 
 her niece and namesake, Bubbles Dunster. 
 
 Blanche Farrow never begged or borrowed. When 
 more hard hit than usual, she retired, alone with her faith- 
 ful maid, to some cheap corner of the Continent; and as 
 she kept her money worries to herself , she was well liked 
 and popular with a considerable circle. 
 
 Such was the human being who in a sense was Lionel 
 Varick's only close friend. They had met in a strange 
 way, some ten years ago, in what Miss Farrow's sterner 
 brother-in-law had called a gambling hell. And, just as 
 we know that sometimes Satan will be found rebuking 
 sin, so Blanche Farrow had set herself to stop the then 
 young Lionel Varick on the brink. He had been in love 
 with her at that time, and on the most unpleasant evening 
 when a cosy flat in Jermyn Street had been raided by the 
 police, he had given Blanche Farrow his word that he 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 33 
 
 would never play again ; and he had kept his word. He 
 alone knew how grateful he had cause to be to the woman 
 who had saved him from joining the doomed throng 
 who only live for play. 
 
 And now there was still to their friendship just that 
 delightful little touch of sentiment which adds salt and 
 savour to almost every relation between a man and a 
 woman. Though Blanche was some years older than 
 Lionel, she looked, if anything, younger than he did, for 
 she had the slim, upright figure, the pretty soft brown 
 hair, and the delicate, finaly modelled features which keep 
 so many an Englishwoman of her type and class young 
 young, if not in years, yet young in everything else that 
 counts. Even what she sometimes playfully called her 
 petit vice had not made her haggard or worn, and she 
 had never lost interest in becoming, well-made clothes. 
 
 Blanche Farrow thought she knew everything there 
 was to know about Lionel Varick, and, as a matter of 
 fact, she did know a great deal no one else knew, though 
 not quite as much as she believed. She knew him to be a 
 hedonist, a materialist, a man who had very few scruples. 
 But not even to herself would she have allowed him to be 
 called by the ugly name of adventurer. Perhaps it would 
 be truer to say for she was a very clever woman that 
 even if, deep in her heart, she must have admitted that 
 such a name would have once suited him, she could now 
 gladly tell herself that "all that" lay far behind him. As 
 we have seen, he owed this change in his circumstances 
 to a happy draw in the lottery of marriage, a draw which 
 has so often turned an adventurer of sorts into 3. man of 
 substance and integrity. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THERE is generally something a little dull and for- 
 mal during the first evening of a country house 
 party; and if this is true when most of the people know 
 each other, how far more so is it the case with such a 
 party as that which was now gathered together at Wynd- 
 f ell Hall! 
 
 Lionel Varick sat at one end of the long oak refectory 
 table, Blanche Farrow at the other. But though the 
 table was far wider than are most refectory tables (it was 
 believed to be, because of its width, a unique specimen), 
 yet Blanche, very soon after they had sat down, told 
 herself that there was something to be said, after all, 
 for the old-fashioned, Victorian mahogany. Such a party 
 as was this party would have sorted themselves out, and 
 really enjoyed themselves much more, sitting in couples 
 round an ordinary dining-table, than at this narrow, erst- 
 while monastic board. Here they were just a little bit 
 too near together too much vis-a-vis, so Blanche put it 
 to herself with a dissatisfied feeling. 
 
 But soon things began going a little better. It had 
 been her suggestion that champagne should be offered with 
 the soup, and already it was having an effect. She was 
 relieved to see that the oddly assorted men and women 
 about her were brisking up, and beginning to talk, even 
 to laugh, with one another. 
 
 On the host's right sat Miss Burnaby. She was at 
 
 34 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 35 
 
 once quaint and commonplace looking, the most notice- 
 able thing about her being the fact that she wore a cap. 
 It was made of fine Mechlin lace threaded with pale-blue 
 ribbon, and, to the woman now looking at her, suggested 
 an interesting survival of the Victorian age. Quite old 
 ladies had worn such caps when she, Blanche Farrow, 
 was a child ! 
 
 The rest of Miss Burnaby's costume consisted of a high 
 black silk dress, trimmed with splendid point lace. 
 
 Miss Burnaby was evidently enjoying herself. She had 
 taken a glass of sherry, was showing no fear of her 
 champagne, and had just helped herself substantially to 
 the delicious sole which was one of the special triumphs 
 of the French chef who had come down for a month to 
 Wyndfell Hall. He and Miss Farrow had discussed to- 
 night's menu together that morning, and he had spoken 
 with modest enthusiasm of this Sole a la Cardinal. . . . 
 
 On the other side of the host sat Helen Brabazon. 
 
 Blanche looked at the late Mrs. Variak's one intimate 
 friend with critical interest. Yes, Miss Brabazon looked 
 Somebody, though a somewhat old-fashioned Somebody, 
 considering that she was still quite a young woman. She 
 had good hair, a good complexion, and clear, honest- 
 looking hazel eyes ; but not her kindest friends would have 
 called her pretty. What charm she had depended on her 
 look of perfect health, and her alert, intelligent expression 
 of face. Miss Farrow, who was well read, and, indeed, 
 had a fine taste in literature, told herself suddenly that 
 Miss Brabazon was rather her idea of Jane Austen's 
 Emma ! Her dark-blue velvet dress, though it set off her 
 pretty skin, and the complexion which was one of her 
 best points, yet was absurdly old, for a girl. Doubtless 
 
36 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Miss Brabazon's gown had been designed by the same 
 dressmaker who had made her mother's presentation dress 
 some thirty years before. Such dressmakers are a quaint 
 survival of the Victorian age, and to them old-fashioned 
 people keep on going from a sense of loyalty, or perhaps 
 because they are honestly ignorant of what strides in 
 beauty and elegance other dressmakers have made in the 
 last quarter of a century. 
 
 The hostess's eye travelled slowly round the table. How 
 ludicrous the contrast between Helen Brabazon and Bub- 
 bles Dunster! Yet they were probably very much of an 
 age. Bubbles, who looked such a child, must now be 
 yes, not far from two-and-twenty. 
 
 Miss Farrow checked a sigh. She had been twenty-one 
 herself but what a charming, distinguished, delightful 
 twenty-one when she had formed one of a little group 
 round the font of St. Peter's, Eaton Square. She remem- 
 bered what an ugly baby she had thought Bubbles, and 
 how she had been anything but pleased when someone 
 present facetiously observed that god-mother and god- 
 child had very much the same type of nose and ears and 
 mouth ! 
 
 To-night Bubbles was wearing an eccentric, and yet 
 very becoming garment. To the uninitiated it might have 
 appeared fashioned out of an old-fashioned chintz curtain. 
 As a matter of fact, the intricate flower pattern with 
 which it was covered had been copied on a Lyons loom 
 from one of those eighteenth century embroidered waist- 
 coats which are rightly prized by connoisseurs. The dress 
 was cut daringly low, back and front, especially back, and 
 the girl wore no jewels. But through her "bobbed" hair 
 was tucked a brilliant little silk flag, which carried out 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 37 
 
 and emphasized the colouring of the flowers scattered 
 over the pale pink silk of which its wearer's gown was 
 made. 
 
 Bubbles, in that staid and decorous company, looked 
 as if she had wandered in from some gay Venetian 
 masquerade. 
 
 She was now sitting between the millionaire, James 
 Tapster, and her own friend, Bill Donnington. When 
 she had heard that she had been placed next Donnington, 
 Bubbles had pouted. "I'd rather have had Sir Lyon," 
 she exclaimed, "or even the old 'un!" for so she irrev- 
 erently designated Helen Brabazon's uncle, Mr. Burnaby. 
 
 But Blanche Farrow had been firm. Sir Lyon must of 
 course be on her own right hand, Mr. Burnaby on her 
 left. It is always difficult to arrange a party of four 
 ladies and five men. She had suggested more than one 
 other pleasant woman to make up the party to ten, but 
 Varick had had some objection to each the objection 
 usually taking the line that the person proposed would 
 not "get on" with the Burnabys. 
 
 Blanche again wondered why their host had been so 
 determined to have Helen Brabazon at his first house- 
 party, if her coming meant the inclusion of her tiresome 
 uncle and aunt? And then she felt a little ashamed of 
 herself. One of the best points about Lionel Varick was 
 his sense of gratitude to anyone who had done him a good 
 turn. Gratitude had been the foundation of their own 
 now many-year-long friendship. 
 
 The food was so very good, there was so much of it, 
 and doubtless those who had journeyed down to Wyndfell 
 Hall to-night were all so hungry, that there was rather 
 less talk going on round the table than might have been 
 
3 8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 expected. But now and again the hostess caught a fleeting 
 interchange of words. She heard, for instance, old Miss 
 Burnaby informing young Donnington that she had been 
 a good deal on the Continent as a young woman, and had 
 actually spent a year in Austria a matter of forty years 
 ago. 
 
 As the meal went on, Miss Farrow gradually became 
 aware that Bubbles provided what life and soul there 
 was in the dull party. But for Bubbles, but for her in- 
 fectious high spirits and vitality, how very heavy and stu- 
 pid the meal they were now ending would have been! 
 She asked herself, for perhaps the twentieth time in the 
 last three-quarters of an hour, why her friend had brought 
 together such a curious and ill-assorted set of people. 
 
 At last she looked across at Miss Burnaby, and grad- 
 ually everyone got up. 
 
 Varick was at the door in a moment, holding it open, 
 and, as they filed by him, managing to say a word to each 
 of the four ladies. "Bravo, Bubbles !" Blanche heard him 
 whisper. "You're earning your Christmas present right 
 royally!" and the girl's eyes flashed up into her host's 
 with a mischievous, not over-friendly glance. Miss Far- 
 row was aware that Bubbles did not much care for Lionel 
 Varick. She rather wondered why. But she was far 
 too shrewd not to know that there's no accounting either 
 for likings or dislikings where a man and a woman are 
 concerned. 
 
 As she shepherded her little party across the staircase 
 lobby, she managed to mutter into her niece's ear: "I 
 want you to take on Miss Burnaby for me, Bubbles I'm 
 anxious to make friends with Helen Brabazon." 
 
 There are times when what one must call for want of a 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 39 
 
 better term the social rites of existence interfere most un- 
 warrantably with the elemental happenings of life. But 
 on this first evening at Wyndfell Hall the coming of cof- 
 fee and of liqueurs proved a welcome diversion. Miss 
 Burnaby smiled a pleased smile as she sipped the Bene- 
 dictine which a footman had poured into a tall green-and- 
 gold Bohemian liqueur-glass for her. She, at any rate, 
 was enjoying her visit. And so, Blanche Farrow decided, 
 was the old lady's niece, for "How beautiful and perfect 
 everything is!" exclaimed the girl; and indeed the room 
 in which they now found themselves was singularly 
 charming. 
 
 But somehow Miss Farrow felt that the speaker was 
 not alluding so much to the room, as to the way every- 
 thing was being done, and her heart warmed to the girl, 
 for she was really anxious that Lionel's first party should 
 be a success. 
 
 When they had settled themselves in the lovely, deli- 
 cately austere-looking white parlour, as it was called, 
 which again suggested to Blanche Farrow the atmosphere 
 of Jane Austen's "Emma/' Bubbles dutifully sat herself 
 down by Miss Burnaby. Soon she was talking to that 
 lady in a way which at once fascinated and rather fright- 
 ened her listener. Bubbles had a very pretty manner to 
 old people. It was caressing, deferential, half -humorously 
 protecting. She liked to shock and soothe them by turns ; 
 and they generally yielded themselves gladly, after a little 
 struggle, both to the shocking and to the soothing. 
 
 Miss Farrow and Helen Brabazon sat down at the 
 further end of the delightful, gladsome-looking room. It 
 was hung with a delicate, faded Chinese paper; and 
 against the walls stood a few pieces of fine white lacquer 
 
40 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 furniture. The chairs were painted some French, some 
 Heppelwhite. Over the low mantelpiece was framed a 
 long, narrow piece of exquisite embroidery. 
 
 "I suppose you have often stayed here?" began Miss 
 Farrow civilly. 
 
 Helen Brabazon looked at her, surprised. "I've never 
 been here before!" she exclaimed. " How could I have 
 been?. I've only known Mr. Varick for, let me see," 
 she hesitated "a very little over a year." 
 
 "But you were a great friend of his wife's at least 
 sol understood?" 
 
 Blanche concealed, successfully, her very real astonish- 
 ment. She had certainly been told by Lionel that Miss 
 Brabazon and "poor Milly" had been intimate friends; 
 that this fact was, indeed, the only link between Miss Bra- 
 bazon and her host. 
 
 The girl now sitting opposite to her flushed deeply, and 
 suddenly Blanche Farrow realized that there was a good 
 deal of character and feeling in the open, ingenuous 
 face. 
 
 "Yes, that's true. We became great friends" a note 
 of emotion broke into the steady, well-modulated voice 
 "but our friendship was not an old friendship, Miss Far- 
 row. I only knew Milly well, I suppose I knew her 
 about ten weeks in all." 
 
 "Ten weeks in all?" This time Blanche Farrow could 
 not keep the surprise she felt out of her voice. "What an 
 extraordinary mistake for me to have made! I thought 
 you had been life-long friends." 
 
 Helen shook her head. "What happened was this. 'A! 
 friend of mine I mean a really old friend had a bad ill- 
 ness, and I took her down to Redsands you may know 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 41 
 
 it, a delightful little village not far from Walmer. I took 
 a house there, and Mr. and Mrs. Varick had the house 
 next door. We made friends, I mean Mr. Varick and 
 myself, over the garden wall, and he asked me if I would 
 mind coming in some day and seeing his wife. I had a 
 great deal of idle time on my hands, so very soon I spent 
 even more time with the Varicks than I did with my 
 friend, and she -I mean poor Milly became very, very 
 fond of me." 
 
 There was a pause. And then the younger woman 
 went on: "And if we knew each other for such a short 
 time, as one measures time, I on my side soon got very 
 fond of Milly. Though she was a good deal r over thirty" 
 again the listener felt a thrill of unreasoning surprise 
 "there was something very simple and young about poor 
 Milly." 
 
 The speaker stopped, and Blanche, leaning forward, ex- 
 claimed: "I am deeply interested in what you tell me, 
 Miss Brabazon ! I have never liked to say much to Lionel 
 about his wife; but I have always so wondered what she 
 was really like?" 
 
 "She simply adored Mr. Varick," Helen answered ea- 
 gerly. "She worshipped him ! She was always making 
 plans as to what she and 'Lionel' would do when she got 
 better. I myself thought it very wrong that all of them, 
 including Dr. Panton, entered into a kind of conspiracy 
 not to let her know how ill she was." 
 
 "I think that was right," said Blanche Farrow shortly. 
 "Why disturb her happiness if indeed she was happy?" 
 
 "She was indeed! very, very happy!" cried Helen. 
 "She had had a miserable life as a girl, and even after 
 she was grown up. When she met Mr. Varick, and they 
 
42 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 fell in love at first sight, she'd hardly ever seen a man 
 to speak to, excepting some of her father's tiresome old 
 cronies " 
 
 "Was she pretty ?" asked Blanche abruptly. 
 
 "Oh, no," the other shook her head decidedly. "Not 
 at all pretty in fact I suppose most people would have 
 called her very plain. Poor Milly was sallow, and, when 
 I knew her, very thin ; but I believe she'd never been really 
 strong, never really healthy." She hesitated, and then 
 said in a low voice : "That made Mr. Varick's wonderful 
 devotion to her all the more touching." 
 
 Blanche Farrow hardly knew what to say. "Yes, in- 
 deed," she murmured mechanically. 
 
 Lionel devoted to a plain, unhealthy woman? Some- 
 how she found it quite impossible to believe that he could 
 ever have been that. And yet there was no doubting the 
 sincerity of the girl's accents. 
 
 "Both Dr. Panton and I used to agree," Helen went on, 
 "that he didn't give himself enough air and exercise. I 
 hired a car for part of the time, and used to take him out 
 for a good blow, now and again." 
 
 "And what did Mrs. Varick really die of?" asked 
 Blanche Farrow. 
 
 "Pernicious anaemia," answered Helen promptly. "It's 
 a curious, little-known disease, from what I can make out. 
 The doctor told me he thought she had had it for a long 
 time or, at any rate, that she had had it for some years 
 before she married Mr. Varick." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "I wonder why they didn't come and live here?" said 
 Miss Farrow thoughtfully. 
 
 "Oh, but she hated Wyndfell Hall! You see, her 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 43 
 
 father's whole mind had been set on nothing but this 
 house, and making it as perfect as possible. It was in a 
 dreadful state when he inherited it from an old cousin; 
 yet he was offered, even so, an enormous sum for some 
 of the wonderful oak ceilings. But he refused the offer 
 indignantly, and he set himself to make it what it must 
 have been hundreds of years ago." 
 
 "He hardly succeeded in doing that," observed Blanche 
 Farrow dryly. "Our ancestors lived less comfortably 
 than we do now, Miss Brabazon. Instead of beautiful 
 old Persian carpets, there must have been rushes on all 
 the floors. And as for the furniture of those days -it 
 was probably all made of plain, hard, unpolished wood." 
 
 "Well, at any rate," the girl' spoke with a touch of 
 impatience "Milly hated this place. She told me once 
 she had never known a day's real happiness till her mar- 
 riage. That's what made it seem so infinitely sad that it 
 lasted such a short time." 
 
 "I suppose," said the other slowly, "that they were 
 married altogether about seven months?" 
 
 "I fancy rather longer than that. She was quite well, 
 or so she thought, when she married. They travelled 
 about for a while on the Continent, and she told me once 
 she enjoyed every minute of it! And then her health 
 began to give way, and they took this house at Redsands. 
 They chose it because Mr. Varick knew something of 
 the doctor there he didn't know him very well, but they 
 became very great friends, in fact such friends that poor 
 Milly left him a legacy I think it was five hundred 
 pounds. Dr. Panton was most awfully good to her, but 
 of course he hadn't the slightest idea that she was leaving 
 him anything. I never saw a man more surprised than 
 
44 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 he was when I told him about it the day of her death. 
 Mr. Varick asked me to do so, and he was quite over- 
 
 come." 
 
 She smiled. Five hundred pounds evidently did not 
 seem very much to Miss Brabazon. 
 
 "I suppose she had a good deal of money?" 
 
 The late Mrs. Varick's friend hesitated a moment, then 
 answered at last, "I think she had about twenty thousand 
 pounds at least I know that that sum was mentioned in 
 the Times list of wills." 
 
 The other was startled disagreeably startled. She had 
 understood, from something Lionel had said to her, that 
 he now had five thousand a year. "This place must be 
 worth a good deal," she observed. She told herself that 
 perhaps the late Mrs. Varick had left twenty thousand 
 pounds in money, and that the bulk of her income had 
 come from land. 
 
 "Yes, but unfortunately poor Milly couldn't leave 
 Wyndfell Hall to Mr. Varick. He only has a life in- 
 terest in it." 
 
 Helen Brabazon spoke in a curiously decided way, as 
 if she were used to business. 
 
 Blanche was again very much surprised. She had cer- 
 tainly understood that this wonderful old house and 
 its very valuable contents belonged to Lionel Varick ab- 
 solutely. "Are you sure of that?" she began and then 
 she stopped speaking, for her quick ears had detected the 
 sound of an opening and shutting door. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 AFTER a few moments the five men sorted themselves 
 among the ladies. Old Mr. Burnaby and young 
 Donnington went and sat by Bubbles, the gloomy-looking 
 James Tapster also finally sidling uncertainly towards her. 
 Sir Lyon civilly devoted himself to Miss Burnaby; and 
 Lionel Varick came over to where Blanche Farrow was 
 sitting, and said something to her in a low voice. 
 
 Thus was Helen Brabazon for the moment left out 
 in the cold. She turned, and opening a prettily bound 
 book which was on a table close to her elbow, began to 
 read it. 
 
 Varick looked dubiously at his silent guest. Leaning 
 again towards Miss Farrow he whispered: "I don't 
 know what one does on such occasions, Blanche. Ought 
 not we to have a round game or something?'* 
 
 She smiled into his keen, good-looking face. "You are 
 a baby ! Or are you only pretending, Lionel ? Everyone's 
 quite happy; why should we do anything?" 
 
 "As a matter of fact, both Mr. Burnaby and Miss Burn- 
 aby spoke before dinner as if they expected to be enter- 
 tained in some way." 
 
 "I'll think something out," she said a little wearily. 
 "Now go and do your duty talk to Miss Brabazon !" 
 
 She got up and moved slowly towards the fireplace, tell- 
 ing herself the while, with a certain irritation, that Lionel 
 was not showing his usual alert intelligence. It was all 
 
 45 
 
46 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 very well to invite this young woman who had been so 
 kind to poor Milly; and the fact that she and her tire- 
 some old uncle and aunt were, if Lionel was right, very 
 wealthy, was not without a certain interest. But still ! 
 
 Blanche, with a certain grim, inward smile, remem- 
 bered a story she had thought at the time rather funny. 
 That of a lady who had said to her husband, "Oh, do 
 come and see them, they are so very rich." And he had 
 answered, "My dear, I would if it were catching!" 
 
 Unfortunately, Blanche Farrow had only too much rea- 
 son to know that wealth is not catching. Also, to one 
 with her brilliant, acute mind, there was something pe- 
 culiarly irritating in the sight of very rich people who 
 didn't know how to use their wealth, either to give them- 
 selves, or others, pleasure. Such people, she felt sure, 
 were Mr. and Miss Burnaby and doubtless, also, their 
 heiress, Helen Brabazon. 
 
 "Bubbles!" she exclaimed imperiously, under her 
 breath. "Come here for a minute." And Bubbles, with a 
 touch of reluctance, got up and left the three men to whom 
 she was talking. 
 
 As she came towards her, her aunt was struck by the 
 girl's look of ill-health and unease. 
 
 "I wish you could think of something that would stir 
 us all up," she said in a low voice. And then, in a lower 
 voice still, for her niece was now close to her, "The 
 Burnabys look the sort of people who would enjoy a 
 parlour game," she said rather crossly. 
 
 And then, all of a sudden, Bubbles gave a queer little 
 leap into the air. "I've got it!" she exclaimed. "Let's 
 hold a seance!" 
 
 "A seance?" repeated Blanche Farrow in a dubious 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 47 
 
 tone. "I don't think Miss Burnaby would enjoy that 
 at all." 
 
 "Oh, but she would!" Bubbles spoke confidently. 
 "Didn't you hear her at dinner? She was telling Sir 
 Lyon about some friend of hers who's become tremen- 
 dously keen about that sort of thing. To tell you the 
 truth, Blanche" (these two had never been on very formal 
 terms together, and in a way Bubbles was much fonder 
 of her aunt than her aunt was of her) "T0 tell you the 
 truth, Blanche," she repeated, "ever since I arrived here 
 I've told myself that it would be rather amusing to try 
 something of the kind. It's a strange old house; there's 
 a funny kind of atmosphere about it ; I felt it the moment 
 I arrived." 
 
 The other looked at her sharply. "I've always avoided 
 that sort of thing, and I don't see it doing you much good, 
 Bubbles ! You know how your father feels about it ?" 
 
 Miss Farrow did not often interfere in other people's 
 affairs, but she had suddenly remembered certain phrases 
 in her brother-in-law's letter. 
 
 "Daddy has been put up to making a fuss by a goody- 
 goody widow who's making up to him just now." Bub- 
 bles spoke lightly, but she looked vexed. 
 
 Blanche Farrow felt sorry she had said anything. Bub- 
 bles was behaving very nicely just now. It was the 
 greatest comfort to have her here. So she said, smiling, 
 "Oh, well, I shan't regret your trying something of the 
 kind if you can galvanize these dull folk into life." 
 
 "I'll do more than that," said Bubbles easily. "I'll give 
 them creeps! But, Blanche? I want you to back me up 
 if I say I'm tired, or don't want to go on with it." 
 
 Blanche Farrow felt surprised. "I don't quite under- 
 
48 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 stand/' she exclaimed. "Aren't we going to do table- 
 turning?" 
 
 "No," said the girl deliberately. "We're going to have 
 a seance a sitting. And I'm going to be the medium." 
 
 "Oh, Bubbles ! Is that wise?" She looked uncomfort- 
 ably into the girl's now eager, flushed face. "D'you think 
 you know enough about these people to be a success at it 
 this very first evening?" 
 
 Bubbles' gift of thought-reading would of course come 
 in; also the girl was a clever actress; still, that surely 
 wouldn't take her very far with a set of people of whom 
 she knew nothing. 
 
 "The only one I'm afraid of," said Bubbles thought- 
 fully, "is Mr. Burnaby. He's such a proper old thing! 
 He might really object object on the same ground as 
 Daddy's tiresome widow does. However, I can but try." 
 
 She pirouetted round, and quickly drew with her foot 
 a gilt footstool from under an Empire settee. She stood 
 upon it and clapped her hands. "Ladies and gentlemen !" 
 she cried. "This is a time of year when ghosts are said 
 to walk. Why shouldn't we hold a seance, here and now, 
 and call up spirits from the vasty deep?" 
 
 "But will they come?" quoted Sir Lyon, smiling up 
 into her eager, sensitive little face. 
 
 Sir Lyon was quite enjoying Lionel Varick's Christmas 
 house-party. For one thing, he was interested in his 
 host's personality. In a small way he had long made a 
 study of Lionel Varick, and it amused him to see Varick 
 in a new role that of a prosperous country gentleman. 
 
 Suddenly Bubbles found an ally in a most unexpected 
 quarter. Helen Brabazon called out : "I've always longed 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 49 
 
 to attend a seance ! I did once go to a fortune-teller, and 
 it was thrilling ." 
 
 Bubbles stepped down off her footstool. She had the 
 gift which her aunt also possessed of allowing another 
 to take the field. 
 
 "If it was so exciting," said Lionel Varick dryly, "I 
 wonder that you only went once, Miss Brabazon." 
 
 Helen's face grew grave. "I'll tell you about it some 
 day," she said in a low voice ; "as a matter of fact, it was 
 just before you and I first met." 
 
 "Yes," said Varick lightly. "And what happened? 
 Do tell me!" 
 
 Helen turned to him, and her voice dropped to a whis- 
 per. "She described Milly I mean the fortune-teller 
 described Milly, almost exactly. She told me that Milly 
 was going to play a great part in my life." 
 
 And then she felt sharply sorry she had said as much 
 or as little as she had said, for her host's face altered; 
 it became, from a healthy pallor, a deep red. 
 
 "Forgive me!" she exclaimed. "Forgive me! I 
 oughtn't to have told you " 
 
 "Don't say that. You can tell me anything !" 
 
 Blanche Farrow, who had now moved forward to the 
 fireplace, would again have been very much surprised 
 had she heard the intense, intimate tone in which Lionel 
 Varick uttered those few words to his late wife's friend. 
 
 Helen blushed a deep, sudden blush and Sir Lyon, 
 looking at her across the room, told himself that she was 
 a remarkable-looking girl, and that he would like to make 
 friends with her. He liked the earnest, old-fashioned type 
 of girl but fate rarely threw him into the company of 
 such a one. 
 
50 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "It is quite unnecessary for any of you to move,'* ob- 
 served Bubbles in a business-like tone ; "but we are likely 
 to obtain much better results if we blow out the candles. 
 The firelight will be quite enough." 
 
 And then, to everyone's surprise, Miss Burnaby spoke. 
 Her voice was gentle and fretful. "I thought that there 
 always had to be a medium at a seance," she observed; 
 "when I went with a friend of mine to what she called a 
 Circle, there was a medium there, and we each paid her 
 half-a-crown." 
 
 "Of course there must be a medium," said Bubbles 
 quickly. "And / am going to be the medium thi-s time, 
 Miss Burnaby; but it will be all free and for nothing I 
 always do it for love !" 
 
 Varick looked at his young guest with a good deal of 
 gratitude. He had never numbered himself among the 
 girl's admirers. To him Bubbles was like a caricature of 
 her aunt. But now he told himself that there was some- 
 thing to say, after all, for this queer younger generation 
 who dare everything! He supposed that Bubbles was 
 going to entertain them with, a clever exhibition of bril- 
 liant acting. Lionel Varick was no mean actor himself, 
 and it was as connoisseur, as well as expert, that he ad- 
 mired the gift when it was practised by others. 
 
 Spiritualism, table-turning, and fortune-telling he 
 bracketed them all together in his own mind had never 
 interested him in the least. But he realized dimly what a 
 wonderful chance this new fashionable craze for so he 
 regarded it gives to the charlatan. He had always felt 
 an attraction to that extraordinary eighteenth century ad- 
 venturer, Cagliostro, and to-night he suddenly remem- 
 bered a certain passage in Casanova's memoirs. ... He felt 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 51 
 
 rather sorry that they hadn't planned out this this seance, 
 before the rest of the party had arrived. He could have 
 given Bubbles a few "tips" which would have made her 
 task easy, and the coming seance much more thrilling. 
 
 The company ranged themselves four on each side. 
 
 Miss Burnaby sat on one side of the fireplace, her 
 brother on the other. Next to the old lady was Sir 
 Lyon; then Helen Brabazon; last their host. 
 
 On the opposite side, next to Mr. Burnaby, sat the 
 fat-visaged James Tapster; by him was Blanche Far- 
 row, looking on the proceedings with a certain cynical 
 amusement and interest, and next to Blanche, and nearest 
 to where Bubbles had now established herself on one of 
 those low chairs which in England is called a nursery 
 chair, and in France a prie-dieu, was young Donnington. 
 He, alone of the people there, looked uncomfortable 
 and disapproving. 
 
 After they had all been seated, waiting they hardly 
 knew for what, for a few moments, Bubbles leapt from 
 her low chair and blew out all the candles, a somewhat 
 lengthy task, and one which plunged the room into almost 
 darkness. But she threw a big log of wood on the fire, 
 and the flames shot up, filling the room with shafts of 
 rosy, fitful light. 
 
 There was a pause. Varick said something in a rather 
 cheerful, matter-of-fact voice to Miss Brabazon, and 
 Bubbles turned round sharply : "I'm afraid we ought to 
 have complete silence even silence of thought," she said 
 solemnly. 
 
 Blanche Farrow looked at the girl. What queer jar- 
 gon was this? In the wavering light thrown by the fire 
 Bubbles' face looked tense and rather strained. 
 
52 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Was it possible, Blanche asked herself with a touch 
 of uneasiness, that the child was taking this seriously 
 that she believed in it at all ? Her father thought so, but 
 then Hugh Dunster was such an old fool ! 
 
 The moments ran by. One or two of the chairs creaked. 
 James Tapster yawned, and he put up his hand rather un- 
 willingly to hide his yawn. He thought all this sort of 
 thing very stupid, and so absolutely unnecessary. He had 
 enjoyed listening to Miss Bubbles' cheerful, inconsequent 
 chatter. It irritated him that she should have been dragged 
 away from him for so he put it to himself by that 
 unpleasant, supercilious woman, Blanche Farrow. It was 
 a pity that a nice girl like Miss Bubbles had such an aunt. 
 Only the other day he had heard a queer story about Miss 
 Farrow. The story ran that she had once been caught in 
 a gambling raid, and her name kept out of the papers 
 by the influence of a man in the Home Office who had 
 been in love with her at the time. 
 
 And then he looked up, startled for once for strange, 
 untoward sounds were issuing from the lips of Bubbles 
 Dunster. The girl was leaning forward, her elbows on 
 her knees, crouched upon the low chair, her slight, sinu- 
 ous little figure bathed in red light. She was groaning, 
 rocking herself backwards and forwards convulsively. 
 
 To most of those present it was a strange, painful ex- 
 hibition painful, yet certainly thrilling! 
 
 Suddenly she began to speak, and the words poured 
 from her lips with a kind of breathless quickness. But 
 the strange, uncanny, startling thing about it was that the 
 voice which uttered these staccato sentences was not 
 Bubbles' well-modulated, drawling voice. It was the high, 
 peevish voice of a child a child speaking queer, broken 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 53 
 
 English. Everyone present, even including Varick and 
 Blanche Farrow, who both believed it to be a clever and 
 impudent piece of impersonation, was startled and taken 
 aback by the extraordinary phenomena the girl now pre- 
 sented. Her eyes were closed, and yet her head was 
 thrust forward as if she was staring at the big, now roar- 
 ing, wood fire before her. 
 
 Rushing out through her scarcely open lips, came the 
 sing-song words: "Why bring Laughing Water here? 
 Laughing Water frightened. Laughing Water want to 
 go away. Laughing Water hates this house. Please, 
 Miss Bubbles, let Laughing Water go away!" And 
 Bubbles if it was Bubbles twisted and turned and 
 groaned, as if in agony. 
 
 And then, to the amazement of all those who were there, 
 young Donnington, his face set in grim lines, suddenly 
 addressed Bubbles, or the little pleading creature that 
 appeared to possess the girl: "Don't be frightened," he 
 said soothingly. "No one's going to hurt Laughing 
 Water. Everyone in this room is good and kind." 
 
 In answer, there broke from Bubbles' lips a loud cry : 
 "No, no, no! Bad people cruel people here! Bad 
 spirits, too. Bad chair. Laughing Water sitting on tor- 
 ture chair! Miss Bubbles change chair. Then Laugh- 
 ing Water feel better." 
 
 Bubbles got up as an automaton might have got up, and 
 Donnington, pushing forward one of the painted chairs, 
 drew the low, tapestry-covered prie-dieu from under her. 
 
 She gave a deep, deep sigh as she sat down again. 
 Then she turned herself and the chair round till she was 
 exactly facing Varick. In a voice which had suddenly 
 become much more her own voice she addressed him, 
 
54 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 speaking slowly, earnestly : "I see a lady standing behind 
 you. She is very stern-looking. She has a pale, worn 
 face, and dark blue eyes. They are very like your eyes. 
 Her hair is parted in the middle ; it is slightly grey. She 
 must have passed over about fifteen to twenty years ago. 
 I think it is your mother. She wants to, she wants 
 to " Bubbles hesitated, and then, speaking now en- 
 tirely in her own voice, she exclaimed with a kind of 
 gasp "to warn you of danger." 
 
 Varick opened his lips, and then he closed them. He 
 felt shaken with an over-mastering emotion, as well as irb- 
 tense surprise, and, yes, of fierce anger with the girl 
 for daring to do this to him. 
 
 But Bubbles began again, staring as if at something 
 beyond and behind him. "Now there's another figure, 
 standing to your left. She is still near the earth plane. 
 I cannot place her at all. She is short and stout ; her grey 
 hair is brushed, back from her forehead. I do not feel 
 as if you had known her very long." 
 
 Her voice died away, then suddenly became stronger, 
 more confident : "Your mother if it is your mother is 
 trying to shield you from her." 
 
 She remained silent for a while. She seemed to be 
 listening. Then she spoke again: "I get a word what 
 is it? not Ardour f Aboard? No, I think it's Arbour!" 
 
 She gazed anxiously into Varick's pale, set face. "She 
 says, 'Remember the Arbour. 9 D'you follow me?" 
 
 She asked the question with a certain urgency, and 
 Bubbles' host nodded, imperceptibly. 
 
 Then she left him, dragging her chair along till she was 
 just opposite Helen Brabazon. 
 
 "I see a man standing behind you," she began; "he is 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 55 
 
 dressed in rather curious, old-fashioned cricketing 
 clothes." 
 
 A look of amazement and understanding passed over 
 Helen's face. 
 
 Bubbles went on, confidently: "He is a tall, well-set- 
 up man. He has light brown hair and grey eyes. He is 
 smiling. I think it is your father. Now he looks grave. 
 He is uneasy about you. He is sorry you came here, to 
 Wyndfell Hall. Do you follow me?" 
 
 But Helen shook her head. She felt bewildered and 
 oppressed. "I wonder," she said f alter ingly, "if he could 
 give me a sign? I do so long to know if it is really 
 my dear, dear father." 
 
 Blanche Farrow turned a little hot. It was too had 
 of Bubbles to do the thing in this way! 
 
 "He says he says I hear him say a word " Bub- 
 bles stopped and knit her brows. " 'Girl, girl' no, it 
 isn't 'girl' " 
 
 "Girlie?" murmured Helen under her breath. 
 
 "Yes, that's it! 'Girlie' he says 'girlie.' " 
 
 Helen Brabazon covered her face with her hands. She 
 was deeply moved. What wonderful thing was this ? She 
 told herself that never, never would she allow herself to 
 speak lightly or slightingly of spiritualism again! As far 
 as she knew, no one in that room, not even her uncle or 
 aunt, was aware that "girlie" had been her long dead 
 father's pet name for his only child. 
 
 And then, quite suddenly, Bubbles' voice broke into a 
 kind of cry. "Take care!" she said. "Take care! I see 
 another form. It has taken the place of your father. I 
 think it is the form of a woman who has passed over, and 
 who loved you once, but w r hose heart is now full of 
 
56 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 hatred. D 'you follow me? Qjuick! quick! She's fading 
 away !" 
 
 Helen shook her head. "No," she said in a dull voice, 
 "I don't follow you at all." 
 
 She felt acutely, unreasonably disappointed. There was 
 no one in the world who had first loved and then hated 
 her, or who could hate her. She cast her mind back to 
 some of her schoolfellows ; but no, as far as she knew they 
 were all still alive, and there was not one of them to 
 whom these exaggerated terms of love and hatred could 
 be applied. 
 
 Bubbles dragged her chair on till she was just opposite 
 Sir Lyon Dilsford. 
 
 He put up his hand: "Will you kindly pass me by, 
 Laughing Water?" he said, in his full, pleasant voice. 
 "I'm an adept, and I don't care for open Circles. If you 
 don't mind, will 'you pass on?" 
 
 And Bubbles dragged on her chair again over the Au- 
 busson carpet. 
 
 She was now opposite Miss Burnaby, and the old lady 
 was looking at her with an air of fear and curiosity 
 which strangely altered her round, usually placid face. 
 
 "I see a tall young man standing behind you," began 
 Bubbles in a monotonous voice. "He has such a funny- 
 looking long coat on; a queer-shaped cap, too. Why, 
 he's dripping with water!" 
 
 And then, almost as if in spite of herself, Miss Burnaby 
 muttered : "Our brother John, who was drowned." 
 
 "He wants me to tell you that he's very happy, and 
 that he sends you your father's and mother's love." 
 
 Bubbles waited for what seemed quite a long time, 
 then she went on again: "I see another man. He is a 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 57 
 
 very good-looking man. Ke has a high forehead, blue 
 eyes, and a golden mustache. He is in uniform. Is it 
 an English uniform?" + 
 
 Miss Burnaby shook her head. 
 
 "I think it's an Austrian uniform," said Bubbles hesi- 
 tatingly; then she continued, in that voice which was 
 hers and yet not hers, for it seemed instinct with another 
 mind : "He says, 'My love ! My love, why did you lack 
 courage?' ' 
 
 The old lady covered her face with her hands. "Stop ! 
 Please stop," she said pitifully. 
 
 Bubbles dragged her chair across the front of the fire 
 till she was exactly opposite Mr. Burnaby. 
 
 For a few moments nothing happened. The fire had 
 died down. There was only a flicker of light in the 
 room. Then all at once the girl gave a convulsive shudder. 
 "I can't help it/' she muttered in a frightened tone. 
 "Someone's coming through!" 
 
 All the colour went out of the healthy old man's face. : 
 "Eh, what?" he exclaimed uneasily. 
 
 Like Mr. Tapster, he had thought all this tomfoolery, 
 but while Bubbles had been speaking to, or at, his sister, he 
 had felt amazed, as well as acutely uncomfortable. 
 
 And then there burst from Bubbles' lips words uttered 
 in a broken, lamenting voice a young, uncultivated 
 woman's voice: "I did forgive you for sure. But oh, 
 how I've longed to come through to you all these years ! 
 You was cruel, cruel to me, Ted and I was kind to you." 
 
 Then followed a very odd, untoward thing. Mr. Bur- 
 naby jumped up from his chair, and he bolted literally 
 bolted from the room, slamming the door behind him. 
 
 Bubbles gave a long, long sigh, and then she said feebly : 
 
58 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "I'm tired. I can't go on any longer now." She spoke 
 in her natural voice, but all the lilt and confidence were 
 as if drained out of it. 
 
 Someone perhaps it was Donnington, who had got up 
 began re-lighting the candles. 
 
 No one spoke for what seemed a long time. And then, 
 to the infinite relief of Varick and Miss Farrow, the 
 door opened, and the butler appeared, followed by the 
 footmen. They were bringing in various kinds of drinks. 
 
 The host poured out and mixed a rather stiff brandy 
 and soda, and took it over to Miss Burnaby. "Do drink 
 this," he said solicitously. "And forgive me, Miss Burna- 
 by I'm afraid I was wrong to allow this this " he 
 did not know quite what to say, so he ended lamely, "this 
 seance to take place." 
 
 Then he poured out another stiff brandy and plain 
 water and drank it himself. 
 
 Donnington turned to Miss Farrow. "I have never 
 known Bubbles so so wonderful!" he exclaimed in a 
 low voice. "There must be something in the atmosphere 
 of this place which made it easier than usual." 
 
 Blanche Farrow looked at him searchingly. "Surely 
 you don't believe in it?" she whispered incredulously. 
 "Of course it was a mixture of thought-reading and Bub- 
 bles' usual quickness !" 
 
 "I don't agree with you I wish I could." The young 
 man looked very pale in the now bright light. "I thor- 
 oughly disapprove of it all, Miss Farrow. I wish to 
 God I could stop Bubbles going in for it !" 
 
 "I agree with you that it's very bad for her." 
 
 The girl had gone away, right out of the circle. She 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 59 
 
 was sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room ; her 
 head, bent over a table, rested on her arms. 
 
 ' 'She'll be worn out good for nothing to-morrow," 
 went on Donnington crossly. "She'll have an awful night 
 too. I might have thought she'd be up to something of 
 the sort ! One of the servants told her to-night that this 
 house is haunted. She'll be trying all sorts of experiments 
 if we can't manage to stop her. It's the only thing Bub- 
 bles really lives for now, Miss Farrow." 
 
 "I'm afraid it is," Blanche felt really concerned. 
 What had just taken place was utterly unlike anything 
 she had ever imagined. And yet and yet it didn't 
 amount to very much, after all! The most extraordi- 
 nary thing which had happened, to her mind, was what 
 had been told to old Miss Burnaby. 
 
 And then all at once she remembered and smiled an 
 inward, derisive little smile. Why, of course! She had 
 overheard Miss Burnaby tell her neighbour at dinner 
 that as a girl she had stayed a winter in Austria. How 
 quick, how clever Bubbles had been how daring, too! 
 Still, deep in her heart, she was glad that her niece had 
 not had time to come round to where she, herself, had 
 been sitting. Bubbles knew a good deal about her Aunt 
 Blanche, and it certainly would not have been very pleas- 
 ant had the child made use of her knowledge even to a 
 slight degree .... Miss Farrow went up to the table 
 on which now stood a large lacquer tray, and poured 
 herself out a glass of cold water. She was an abstemious 
 woman. 
 
 "I think some of us ought to go up to bed now," she 
 said, turning round. "It isn't late yet, but I'm sure we're 
 all tired. And we've had rather an exciting evening." 
 
60 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 There was a good deal of hand-shaking, and a little 
 talk of plans for the morrow. Bubbles had come over, 
 and joined the others, but she was still curiously ab- 
 stracted. 
 
 "Where's Mr. Burnaby ?" she asked suddenly. "Wasn't 
 he at the seance?" 
 
 "He's gone to bed/' said his sister shortly. 
 
 Her host was handing the old lady a bedroom candle, 
 and she was looking up at him with a kind of appeal 
 in her now troubled and bewildered face. 
 
 "I feel I owe you an apology," he said in a low voice. 
 "Bubbles Dunster has always possessed extraordinary 
 powers of thought-reading. I remember hearing that 
 years ago, when she was a child. But of course I had 
 no idea she had developed the gift to the extent she now 
 has or I should have forbidden her to exercise it to- 
 night." 
 
 After the three other women had all gone upstairs, 
 Blanche Farrow lingered a moment at the bottom of the 
 staircase ; and Varick, having shepherded Sir Lyon, young 
 Donnington, and James Tapster into the hall, joined her 
 for a few moments. 
 
 "Bubbles is an extraordinary young creature," he said 
 thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have thought it within the 
 power of any human being to impress me as she impressed 
 me to-night. What a singular gift the girl has!" 
 
 Somehow Blanche felt irritated. "She has a remark- 
 able memory," she said dryly. "And also the devil's own 
 impudence, Lionel." And then she told him of the few 
 words she had overheard at dinner of the winter Miss 
 Burnaby had spent in Austria a matter of forty years ago. 
 
 "Yes, that's all very well ! But it doesn't account for 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 61 
 
 her absolutely correct description of my mother, or 
 or " 
 
 "Yes?" said his companion sharply. 
 
 "Well of her mention of the word 'arbour/ Tfie 
 last time I saw my mother alive was in the arbour of our 
 horrible little garden at Bedford." 
 
 "That," said Blanche thoughtfully, "was, I admit, pure 
 thought-reading. Good-night, Lionel." 
 
 Varick remained standing at the foot of the staircase 
 for quite a long while. 
 
 Yes, it had been thought-reading, of course. But very 
 remarkable, even so. It was years since he had thought 
 of that last painful talk with his mother. She had 
 warned him very seriously of certain well, peculiarities 
 of his character. The long- forgotten words she had used 
 suddenly leapt into his mind as if written in letters of 
 fire : "Your father's unscrupulousness, matched with my 
 courage, make a dangerous combination, my boy." 
 
 As he lit a cigarette, his hand shook a little, but the 
 more he thought of it, the more he told himself that for 
 all that had occurred with relation to himself to-night 
 there was an absolutely natural explanation. 
 
 Take the second figure Bubbles had described ? It was 
 obviously that of the woman on whom he had allowed 
 his mind to dwell uneasily, intensely, this afternoon. She 
 was his only enemy if you could call the crazy creature 
 who had been poor Milly's companion an enemy. 
 
 The odious personality of the absurdly named Julia Pig- 
 chalke was still very present to him as he turned and joined 
 his men guests in the beautiful camber-roofed and linen- 
 panelled room known as the hall. She was the one fly, al- 
 beit a very small fly, in the ointment of his deep content. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 IT was a good deal more than an hour later in fact 
 nearer twelve than eleven o'clock when young Don- 
 nington got up from the comfortable chair where he had 
 been ensconced, and put down the book which he had 
 been reading. 
 
 All the other men of the party, with the exception of 
 old Mr. Burnaby who had gone to bed for good after 
 his dramatic bolt from the drawing-room had disap- 
 peared some time ago. But Donnington had stayed on 
 downstairs, absorbed in a curious, privately printed book 
 containing the history of Wyndfell Hall. 
 
 Suddenly his eyes fell on the following passage : 
 
 "Every piece of the furniture in 'the White Parlour/ 
 as it is still called, is of historic value and interest. To 
 take but one example. A low, high-backed chair, covered 
 with petit point embroidery, is believed to have been the 
 prie-dieu on which the Princesse de Lamballe knelt during 
 the whole of the night preceding her terrible death. In 
 a document which was sold with the chair in 1830, her 
 servant who, it appears, had smuggled the chair into 
 the prison recounts the curious fact that the poor Prin- 
 cess had a prevision that she was to be torn in pieces. 
 She spent the last night praying for strength to bear 
 the awful ordeal she knew lay before her." 
 
 62 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 63 
 
 Donnington shut the book. "That's strange !" he mut- 
 tered to himself as he got up. 
 
 After putting the book back in the bookcase where he 
 had found it, he stood and looked round the splendid 
 apartment with a mixture of interest and delighted at- 
 tention. 
 
 Yes, this wonderful old "post and panel" dwelling was 
 the most beautiful of the many beautiful old country 
 houses with which he had made acquaintance in the last 
 two or three years; and it was awfully good of Bubbles 
 to have got him asked here! Even if she hadn't actually 
 suggested he should come, he knew that of course he 
 owed his being here to her. 
 
 The queer, enigmatic, clever girl had the whole of 
 Donnington's steadfast heart. Since he had first met 
 Bubbles only some eighteen months ago, but it now 
 seemed an eternity all life had been different. 
 
 At first she had at once repelled, attracted, and shocked 
 him. He had been much taken aback when she had first 
 proposed coming to see him, unchaperoned, in the modest 
 rooms he occupied in Gray's Inn. Then, after she had 
 twice invited herself to tea, her constant comings seemed 
 quite natural. Sometimes she would be accompanied by 
 a friend, either another girl or a man, and they would 
 form a merry, happy little party of three or four. But 
 of course he was far, far happiest when she came alone. 
 Almost from the first moment there had been a kind 
 of instinctive intimacy between them, and very soon she 
 had learnt to rely on him even to take his advice about 
 little things and to come to him with all her troubles. 
 
 Bubbles Dunster had already been what Donnington in 
 his own mind called "deeply bitten" with spiritualism 
 
64 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 before they had met; yet he had known her for some 
 considerable time before she had allowed him to know 
 it. Even now she tried, ineffectually, to keep him out- 
 side all that concerned that part of her life. But, as 
 he once had told her with more emotion than he gen- 
 erally betrayed, he would have followed her down to 
 hell itself. 
 
 There came a cloud over his honest face as he thought 
 of what had happened this very evening. And yet, 
 and yet he had to admit that even now he could never 
 make up his mind he never knew, that is, how far what 
 took place was due to a supernatural agency, or how 
 much to Bubbles' uncanny quickness and cleverness. 
 
 What was more strange, considering how well he knew 
 her, Donnington did not really know how much she 
 herself believed in it all. As a rule probably because 
 she knew how anxious and troubled he felt about the 
 matter Bubbles would very seldom discuss with him 
 any of the strange happenings in which she was so ab- 
 sorbed. And yet, now and 'again, almost as if in spite 
 of herself, she would ask him if he would care to come 
 to a seance, or invite him to witness an exceptionally 
 remarkable manifestation at some psychic friend's house. 
 
 It had early become impossible for him, apart from 
 everything else, to accept the easy "all rot" theory, for 
 Bubbles' occult gifts were really very remarkable and 
 striking. They had become known to the now large 
 circle of intelligent people who make a study of psychic 
 phenomena, and among them, just because she was an 
 "amateur," she was much in request. 
 
 But it had never occurred to him, from what he had 
 been told of the party now gathered together, that there 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 65, 
 
 would be the slightest attempt at the sort of thing which 
 had happened to-night. He felt sharpy irritated with 
 Miss Farrow, whom he had never liked, and also with 
 Lionel Varick. He knew that Bubbles' father had written 
 to her aunt; he had himself advised it, knowing, with 
 that shrewd, rather pathetic instinct which love gives to 
 some natures, that Bubbles thought a great deal of her 
 aunt far more, indeed, than her aunt did of her. He 
 told himself that he would speak to Miss Farrow to- 
 morrow have it out with her. 
 
 Rather slowly and deliberately, for he was a rather 
 slow and deliberate young man, he put out the lights of 
 the three seven-branched candlesticks which illumined the 
 beautiful old room; and, as he moved about, he suddenly 
 became aware that nearly opposite the door giving into 
 the staircase lobby was a finely-carved, oak, confessional- 
 box. What an odd, incongruous ornament to have in a 
 living-room ! 
 
 The last bedroom candlestick had gone, and tempo- 
 rarily blinded by the sudden darkness, he groped his way 
 up the broad, shallow stairs to the corridor which he knew 
 ultimately led to his room. 
 
 He was setting his feet cautiously one before the other 
 on the landing, his eyes by now accustomed to the grey 
 dimness of a winter night, for the great window above the 
 staircase was uncurtained, when Something suddenly 
 loomed up before him, and he felt his right arm gripped. 
 
 He gave a stifled cry. And then, all at once, he knew 
 that it was Bubbles only Bubbles! He felt her dear 
 nearness rushing, as it were, all over him. It was all 
 he could do to prevent himself from taking her in his 
 arms. 
 
66 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Bill? That is you, isn't it?" she asked in a low whisper. 
 "I'm so frightened so frightened! I should have come 
 down long ago but I thought some of the others were 
 still there. Oh ! I wish I'd come down ! I've been wait- 
 ing up here so long and oh, Bill, I'm very cold !" She 
 was pressing up close to him, and he put his arm round 
 her in a protecting, impersonal way. 
 
 "I wish we could go and sit down somewhere," she 
 went on plaintively. "It's horrible talking out here, on 
 the landing. I suppose it wouldn't do, Bill, for you to 
 come into my room?" 
 
 "No, that wouldn't do at all," he said simply. "But 
 look here, Bubbles would you like to go downstairs 
 again, into the hall? It's quite warm there," he felt 
 that she was really shivering. 
 
 "I'm cold I'm cold!" 
 
 "Put on something warmer," he said or rather 
 ordered. "Put on your fur coat. Is it downstairs ? Shall 
 I go and fetch it?" 
 
 She whispered, "It's in my room I know where it is. 
 I know exactly where Pegler put it." 
 
 She left him standing in the corridor, and went back 
 into her room. The door was wide open, and he could 
 see that she was wearing a white wrapper covered with 
 large red flowers some kind of Eastern, wadded dress- 
 ing-gown. He heard a cupboard door creak, and then she 
 came out of the room dragging her big fur coat over her 
 dressing-gown; but he saw that her feet were bare she 
 had not troubled to put on slippers. 
 
 "Go back," he said imperiously, "and put some shoes 
 on, Bubbles you'll catch your death of cold." 
 
 How amazing, how incredible, this adventure would 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 67 
 
 have appeared to him even a year ago! But it seemed 
 quite natural now simply wilful Bubbles' way. There 
 was nothing Bubbles could do which would surprise Don- 
 nington now. 
 
 "Don't shut your door," he muttered. "It might 
 wake someone up. Just blow out the candles, and leave 
 the door open." 
 
 She obeyed him; and then he took her arm again 
 blinded by the sudden obscurity in which they were now 
 plunged. 
 
 "I hate going downstairs," she said fretfully. "Some- 
 how I feel as if downstairs were full of Them!" 
 
 "Full of them?" he repeated. "What on earth do you 
 mean, Bubbles?" 
 
 And Bubbles murmured fearfully: "You know per- 
 fectly well what I mean. And it's all my fault all my 
 fault!" 
 
 He whispered rather sternly back : "Yes, Bubbles, it is 
 your fault. Why couldn't you leave the thing alone just 
 for a little while just through the Christmas holidays ?" 
 
 "I felt so tempted," she muttered. "I forget who 
 it was who said 'Temptation is so pleasing because it 
 need never be resisted/ ' 
 
 He uttered an impatient exclamation under his breath. 
 
 "Let's sit down on the staircase," she pleaded, "I'm 
 warmer now. I think this would be a nice place to sit 
 down." 
 
 She sank down on one of the broad, low steps just 
 below the landing, and pulled him down, nestling up close 
 to him. "Oh, Bill," she whispered, "it is a comfort to 
 be with you a real comfort. You don't know what I've 
 gone through since I came up to bed. I felt all the time 
 
68 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 as if Something was trying to get at me something 
 cruel, revengeful, miserable!" 
 
 - "You ate too much at dinner," he said shortly. "You 
 oughtn't to have taken that brandy-cherries ice." 
 
 They had very soon got past the stage during which 
 Donnington had tried to say pretty things to Bubbles. 
 
 "Perhaps I did" he felt the gurgle of amusement in 
 her voice. ' "I was very hungry, and the food here is very 
 good. It must be costing a lot of money all this sort 
 of thing. How nice to be rich ! Oh, Bill, how very nice 
 to be rich!" 
 
 "I don't agree," he said sharply. "Varick doesn't look 
 particularly happy, that I can see." 
 
 "I wonder if Aunt Blanche would marry him now?" 
 
 "I don't suppose he'd give her the chance now." 
 
 It wasn't a very chivalrous thing to say, or hear said, 
 and Bubbles pinched him so viciously that he nearly cried 
 out. 
 
 "You're not to talk like that of my Aunt Blanche. Quite 
 lately not three months ago someone asked her to 
 marry him for the thousandth time! But of course she 
 said no as I shall do to you, a thousand times too, if 
 we live long enough." 
 
 She waited a moment, then said slowly: "Her man's 
 rather like you. He's very much what you will be, Bill, 
 in about thirty years from now a plain, good, priggish 
 old fellow. Of course you know who it is? Mark Gif- 
 ford, of the Home Office. Aunt Blanche only keeps in 
 with him because he's very useful to her sometimes." 
 
 And then she added, with a touch of strange cruelty, 
 "Just as / shall always keep in with you, Bill, however 
 tiresome and disagreeable you may be! Just because I 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 69 
 
 find you so useful. You're being useful now; I don't 
 feel frightened any more." 
 
 She drew herself from the shelter of his strong, pro- 
 tecting arm, and slid along the polished step till she 
 leant against the banister. He could just see the white- 
 ness of her little face shining out of the big fur collar. 
 
 "If you're feeling all right again," he said rather 
 coolly, "I think we'd both better go to bed. Speaking 
 for myself, I feel sleepy !" 
 
 But she was sliding towards him again, and again she 
 clutched his arm. "No, no," she whispered. "Let's wait 
 just a little longer, Bill. I I don't feel quite comfortable 
 in that room. I wonder if they'd give me a new room 
 to-morrow? It's funny, I'm not a bit frightened at what 
 they call the haunted room here the room that's next 
 Aunt Blanche's, in the other wing of the house. A woman 
 who killed her little stepson is supposed to haunt that 
 
 room." 
 
 "I know," said Donnington shortly. "I've been reading 
 about it in a book downstairs. / shouldn't care to sleep 
 in a room where such a thing had been done ghost or 
 no ghost!" 
 
 And then Bubbles said something which rather startled 
 him. "Bill," she whispered, leaning yet closer to him, 
 "I raised that ghost two nights ago." 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked sternly. 
 
 "I mean that Aunt Blanche and that tiresome Pegler 
 of hers had already been here a week and nothing had 
 happened. And then the first night I was in the house 
 the ghost appeared!" 
 
 She was shivering now, and, almost unwillingly, he 
 
70 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 put his arm round her again. "Rot!" he exclaimed. 
 "Don't let yourself think such things, Bubbles " 
 
 "I know you don't believe it, Bill, but I have got the 
 power of raising Them." 
 
 "I don't know whether I believe it or not," he said 
 slowly. "And I I sometimes wonder if you believe it, 
 Bubbles, or if you're only pretending?" 
 
 There was a pause. And then Bubbles said in a 
 strange tone : " 'Tisn't a question of believing it now, 
 Bill. I know it's true ! I wish it wasn't." 
 
 "If it's true," he said, "or even if you only believe 
 it's true, what on earth made you do what you did to- 
 night?" 
 
 "It was so deadly," she exclaimed, "so deadly dull!" 
 She yawned. "You see, I can't help yawning even at the 
 recollection of it !" 
 
 And in the darkness her companion smiled. 
 
 "I felt as if I wanted to wake them all up! Also I 
 felt as if I wanted to know something more about them 
 than I did. Also" she hesitated. 
 
 "Yes?" he said questioningly. 
 
 "I rather wanted to impress Aunt Blanche." The words 
 came slowly, reluctantly. 
 
 "I wonder what made you want to do that?" asked 
 Donnington dryly. 
 
 "Somehow well, you know, Bill, that sort of cool 
 unbelief of hers stings me. She's always thought I 
 make it all up as I go along." 
 
 "You do sometimes," he said in a low voice. 
 
 "I used to, Bill but I don't now : it isn't necessary." 
 
 He turned rather quickly. "Honest Injun, Bubbles?" 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 71 
 
 "Yes. Honest Injun!" There was a pause. "What 
 do you think of Varick?" she suddenly whispered. 
 
 "I think Mr. Varick/' answered Donnington coldly, 
 "is a thoroughly nice sort of chap. I like his rather elab- 
 orate, old-fashioned manners." 
 
 "He's a queer card for all his pretty manners," mut- 
 tered Bubbles; and somehow Donnington felt that some- 
 thing else was on the tip of her tongue to say, but that 
 she had checked herself, just in time. 
 
 "I wish," he said earnestly, "I do wish, Bubbles, that 
 you and I could have a nice, old-fashioned Christmas. 
 They sent up to-night to know if Mr. Varick would allow 
 some of his holly to be cut for decorating the church 
 why shouldn't we go down to-morrow and help? Do, 
 Bubbles to please me !" 
 
 "I will," she said penitently. "I will, dearest." 
 
 Donnington sighed a short, quick sigh. He could re- 
 member the exquisite thrill it had given him when she 
 had first uttered the word in a crowd of careless peo- 
 ple. Now, when Bubbles called him "dearest" it did not 
 thrill him at all, for he knew she said it to a great many 
 people and yet it always gave him pleasure to hear her 
 utter the dear, intimate little word to him. 
 
 "Get up and go to bed, you naughty girl!" he said 
 good-humouredly, but there was a great deal of tender- 
 ness in his low, level tone. 
 
 She rose quickly to her feet. All her movements were 
 quick and lightsome and free. There was a touch of 
 Ariel about Bubbles, so Bill Donnington sometimes told 
 himself. 
 
 They walked up the few shallow steps together, she still 
 very close to him. And then, when they were opposite 
 
72 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 her door, she exclaimed, but in a very low whisper : "Now 
 you must say the prayer with me for me!" 
 
 "The prayer? What do you mean, Bubbles?" 
 
 "You know," she muttered : 
 
 "Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, 
 Bless the bed that I lie on 
 
 "What's after that?" she asked. 
 
 He went on, uttering the quaint words very seriously, 
 very reverently: 
 
 "Four corners to my bed, 
 Four Angels round my head; 
 One to watch and one to pray, 
 One to keep all fears away" 
 
 "No," she exclaimed fretfully. " 'One to keep my soul 
 in bed/ That's what / say. I don't want my poor little 
 soul to go wandering about this beautiful, terrible old 
 house when I'm asleep. Good-night, Goody goody!" 
 
 She put up her face as a child might have done, and 
 he bent down and kissed her, as he might have kissed a 
 wilful, naughty child who had just told him she was sorry 
 for something she had done. 
 
 "God bless you," he said huskily. "God bless and keep 
 you from any real harm, Bubbles my darling." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 AS regarded Lionel Varick, the second day of his 
 house-party at Wyndfell Hall opened most inau- 
 spiciously, for, when approaching the dining-room, he 
 became aware that the door was not really closed, and 
 that Mr. Burnaby and his niece were having what seemed 
 to be an animated and even angry discussion. 
 
 "I don't like this place, and I don't care for your fine 
 
 friend, Mr. Varick " Such was the very unpleasant 
 
 observation which the speaker's unlucky host overheard. 
 
 There came instant silence when he pushed open the 
 door, and Helen with heightened colour looked up, and 
 exlaimed : "My uncle has to go back to London this morn- 
 ing. Isn't it unfortunate? He's had a letter from an 
 old friend who hasn't been in England for some years, 
 and he feels he must go up and spend Christmas with him, 
 instead of staying with us here." 
 
 Varick was much taken aback. He didn't believe in 
 the old friend. His mind at once reverted to what had 
 happened the night before. It was the seance which had 
 upset Mr. Burnaby not a doubt of it! Without being 
 exactly unpleasant, the guest's manner this morning was 
 cold, very cold and Varick himself was hard put to 
 it to hide his annoyance. 
 
 He had taken a great deal of trouble in the last few 
 months to conciliate this queer, disagreeable, rather sus- 
 picious old gentleman, and he had thought he had suc- 
 
 73 
 
74 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 ceeded. The words he had overheard when approaching 
 the dining-room showed how completely he had failed. 
 And now Bubbles Dunster, with her stupid tomfoolery, 
 was actually driving Mr. Burnaby away ! 
 
 But Mr. Burnaby's host was far too well used to con- 
 ceal his thoughts, and to command his emotions, to do 
 more than gravely assent, with an expression of regret. 
 Nay more, as some of the others gradually lounged in, and 
 as the meal became a trifle more animated, he told him- 
 self that after all Mr. Burnaby might have turned out a 
 spoil-sport, especially with regard to a secret, all-im- 
 portant matter which he, the convener of this curiously 
 assorted Christmas party, had very much at heart. 
 
 Even so, for the first time in their long friendship, 
 he felt at odds with Blanche Farrow. She ought to 
 have stopped the seance the moment she saw whither it 
 was tending! His own experience of Bubbles* peculiar 
 gift had been very far from agreeable, and had given 
 him a thoroughly bad night. That strange, sinister evoca- 
 tion of his long-dead mother had stirred embers Varick 
 had believed to be long dead embers he had done his 
 best, as it were, to stamp out from his memory. 
 
 Another thing which added to his ill-humour was the 
 fact that Bubbles, alone of the party, had not come down 
 to breakfast. In such matters she was an absolute law 
 unto herself; but whereas during the first two days of 
 the girl's stay at Wyndfell Hall her host had been rather 
 glad to miss her at breakfast it had been a cosy little 
 meal shared by him and Blanche he now resented her 
 absence. He told himself angrily that she ought to have 
 been there to help to entertain everybody, and to cheer 
 up sulky James Tapster. The latter had asked : "Where's 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 75 
 
 Miss Bubbles?" with an injured air as if he thought 
 she ought to be forming part of the excellent breakfast. 
 
 Mr. Burnaby was determined to get away from Wynd- 
 fell Hall as soon as possible, and by eleven o'clock the 
 whole party, excepting Bubbles, was in the hall, bidding 
 him good-bye. And then it was that Varick suddenly 
 realized with satisfaction that both Miss Burnaby and 
 Helen regarded the departure of their kinsman with per- 
 fect equanimity. Was it possible that Helen was glad her 
 uncle and guardian was leaving her alone for once? The 
 thought was a very pleasant one to her present entertainer 
 and host. 
 
 Even so, after he and Blanche Farrow turned away 
 from the porch where they had been speeding the parting 
 guest, she noticed that Varick looked more annoyed, more 
 thoroughly put out, than she had ever seen him and 
 she had seen him through some rather bad moments in 
 the long course of their friendship ! 
 
 "I hope Bubbles won't try on any more of her thought- 
 reading tomfoolery," he said disagreeably. "What hap- 
 pened last night has driven Mr. Burnaby away." 
 
 "I think you're wrong," said Blanche quickly. "I'm 
 certain he received the letter of which he spoke." 
 
 "I don't agree with you" ; and it was with difficulty that 
 Varick restrained himself from telling her what he had 
 overheard the unpleasant old man say to his niece. 
 
 "I think we shall get on all the better without him," 
 said Blanche decidedly. 
 
 She vaguely resented the way in which Varick spoke 
 of Bubbles. After all, the girl had come to Wyndfell Hall 
 out of the purest good nature in order to help them 
 through with their party. 
 
76 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Oh, well, I daresay you're right." (He couldn't afford 
 to quarrel with Blanche.) "And I forgot one thing. 
 I've heard from Panton " 
 
 "You mean your doctor friend?" she said coldly. 
 
 "Yes, and he hopes to be here sooner than he thought 
 he could be. He's a good chap, Blanche" there came 
 a note of real feeling into Varick's voice "awfully hard- 
 worked! I hope we'll be able to give him a good time." 
 
 "He'll have to sleep in the haunted room." 
 
 "That won't matter. He wouldn't believe in a ghost, 
 even if he saw one! Be nice to him, for my sake; he 
 was awfully good to me, Blanche." 
 
 And Blanche Farrow softened. There was a very 
 good side to her friend Lionel. He was one of those rare 
 human beings who are, in a moral sense, greatly benefited 
 by prosperity. In old days, though his attractive, domi- 
 nant personality had brought him much kindness, and 
 even friendship, of a useful kind, his hand had always 
 been, as Blanche Farrow knew well, more or less against 
 every man. But now? now he seemed to look at the 
 world through rose-coloured glasses. 
 
 He glanced at the still very attractive woman standing 
 by his side, his good-humour quite restored. "A penny 
 for your thoughts !" he said jokingly. 
 
 Blanche shook her head, smiling. Not for very much 
 more than a penny would she have told him the thought 
 that had suddenly come, as such thoughts will do, into 
 her mind. That thought was, how extraordinary had 
 been Varick's transformation from what a censorious 
 world might have called an unscrupulous adventurer into 
 a generous man of position and substance all owing to 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 77 
 
 the fact that some two years ago he had drifted across 
 an unknown woman in a foreign hotel! 
 
 Even to Blanche there was something pathetic in the 
 thought of "poor Milly," whose birthplace and home this 
 beautiful and strangely perfect old house had been. It 
 was Milly not that sinister figure that Pegler thought 
 she had seen whose form ought to haunt Wyndfell Hall. 
 But there survived no trace, no trifling memento even, of 
 the dead woman's evidently colourless personality. 
 
 And as if Varick had guessed part of what was pass- 
 ing through her mind, "Any news of the ghost, Blanche ?" 
 he asked jokingly. "How's my friend Pegler this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Pegler's quite all right! I'm the person who ought 
 to have seen the ghost but of course I neither saw nor 
 heard anything." 
 
 As they came through into the hall where the rest of 
 the party were gathered together, Blanche heard Helen 
 Brabazon exclaim: "This is a most wonderful old book, 
 Mr. Varick! It gives such a curious account of a ghost 
 who is supposed to haunt this house the ghost of a 
 most awfully wicked woman who killed her stepson by 
 throwing him into the moat, and then drowned her- 
 self " 
 
 Mr. Tapster, who seldom contributed anything worth 
 hearing to the conversation, suddenly remarked: "The 
 ghost has been seen within the last two days by one of 
 the servants here." 
 
 "Who told you that?" asked Varick sharply. 
 
 "My valet ; I always hear all the news from him." 
 
 Helen clapped her hands. "How splendid !" she cried. 
 "That makes everything simply perfect!" She turned 
 
78 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 her eager, smiling face on Lionel Varick, "I've always 
 longed to stay in a haunted house. I wish the ghost would 
 appear to me !" 
 
 "Don't wish that, Miss Brabazon." 
 
 It was Sir Lyon's quiet voice which uttered those five 
 words very gravely. 
 
 Sir Lyon liked Helen Brabazon. She was the only 
 one of the party, with the exception of Bill Donnington, 
 whom he did like. He was puzzled, however, by her ap- 
 parent intimacy with their attractive host. How and where 
 could Varick have come across the Burnabys and their 
 niece? They had nothing in common with his usual 
 associates and surroundings. In their several ways they 
 were like beings from different planets. 
 
 Sir Lyon knew a great deal about Lionel Varick, though 
 he had seen nothing of him during the few months 
 Varick's married life had lasted. Like Miss Farrow, 
 Sir. Lyon was honestly glad that his present host, after 
 turning some dangerous corners, had drifted, by an amaz- 
 ing series of lucky bumps, into so safe and pleasant a 
 haven. There are certain people, who, when unsatisfied, 
 and baulked of whatever may be their hidden desires, are 
 dangerous to their fellows. Such a man, Sir Lyon was 
 secretly convinced, had been Lionel Varick. Such, evi- 
 dently, was he no longer. 
 
 "Would you like to see the haunted room ?" He heard 
 Varick ask the question in that deep, musical voice which 
 many people found so attractive. Helen eagerly as- 
 sented, and they disappeared together. 
 
 Sir Lyon and Bill Donnington went off to the library, 
 and for a few moments Blanche Farrow and Miss Bur- 
 naby were alone together in the hall. "Your niece seems 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 79 
 
 to have very remarkable psychic gifts," said the old 
 lady hesitatingly. 
 
 And Blanche suddenly remembered Why, of 
 
 course! Miss Burnaby had been one of the people most 
 strongly affected by what had happened the night be- 
 fore ; she must choose her words carefully. So, "Bubbles 
 has a remarkable gift of thought-reading," she answered 
 quietly. "Personally I am quite convinced that it's not 
 anything more." 
 
 "Are you?" There was a curious, questioning look 
 on Miss Burnaby's usually placid face. "D'you think 
 then, that what happened last night was all thought-read- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Certainly I think so! But I admit that perhaps I 
 am not a fair judge, for I haven't the slightest belief in 
 what Bubbles would call occultism." 
 
 "I know a lady who goes in for all that sort of 
 thing," said Miss Burnaby slowly. "My brother dis- 
 approves of my acquaintance with her. She once took me 
 to what is called a Circle, and, of course, I could not help 
 feeling interested. But the medium who was there was 
 not nearly as remarkable as Miss Dunster seems to be; 
 I mean she did not get the same results at any rate, not 
 in my case." 
 
 "I'm afraid what happened last night rather upset you," 
 said Blanche uncomfortably. "I know it would have 
 annoyed me very much if the same thing had happened 
 to me." 
 
 "It is true that I was, as a girl, engaged to an Austrian 
 officer. We were very devoted to one another, but my 
 dear father refused his consent. So what occurred last 
 night brought back many painful memories." 
 
8o FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Miss Burnaby spoke very simply, but there was a 
 note of deep sadness in her voice, and Blanche told her- 
 self that she had been wrong in regarding her as simply 
 a dull, conventional, greedy old woman. 
 
 "I'm very sorry now that I allowed Bubbles to do it," 
 she exclaimed. "I'm afraid it upset your brother, too, 
 very much?" 
 
 Again there came a curious change over Miss Burna- 
 by's face. She hesitated perceptibly and then answered: 
 "I would not say so to any of the younger people here, 
 of course. But, as a matter of fact, my brother had a 
 very unpleasant experience as a young man. He fell in 
 love, or thought he fell in love, with a young woman. 
 It was a very unfortunate and tragic affair for, Miss 
 Farrow, the unhappy young person killed herself ! I was 
 very young at the time, and I was not supposed to know 
 anything about it. But of course I did know. Poor Ted 
 had to give evidence at the inquest. It was dreadful, 
 dreadful! We have never spoken of it all these many 
 years we have lived together. You realize, Miss Far- 
 row, that the young person was not in our class of life?" 
 the old lady drew herself up stiffly. 
 
 Blanche felt much relieved when, at that moment 
 Bubbles appeared. She made a delightful, brilliant, Goya- 
 like picture, in her yellow jumper and long chain of coral 
 beads. But she looked very tired. 
 
 "Have all the others gone out?" she asked languidly. 
 And before Blanche could answer, Miss Burnaby, mur- 
 muring something about having letters to write, quickly 
 left the room. The sight of the girl affected her pain- 
 fully; but it also intensified her longing for what she 
 had heard called "a private sitting." 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 81 
 
 "Lionel is showing Miss Brabazon over the house. 
 She's very much thrilled over Pegler's experience. I 
 can't make that girl out can you, Bubbles?" 
 
 Miss Farrow drew nearer to the fire. "She's such a 
 queer mixture oi shrewdness and simplicity," she went 
 on. "She doesn't seem ever to have gone anywhere, or 
 seen anyone, and yet she's so so mature ! I believe she's 
 exactly your age." 
 
 "I feel about a hundred to-day," said Bubbles wearily. 
 
 Blanche was wondering how she could open on the sub- 
 ject about which she'd promised to speak to the girl. 
 Somehow she always very much disliked speaking to 
 Bubbles of what she called, in her own mind, "all that 
 unhealthy rot and nonsense!" And yet she must say 
 something she had promised Lionel Varick to do so. 
 
 Bubbles' next words gave her no opening. 
 
 "I have no use for Helen Brabazon," she said pettishly. 
 "A very little of her would bore me to death. But still, 
 I amused myself at dinner last night thinking what I 
 should do if I had all her money." 
 
 "All her money?" repeated Blanche, puzzled. 
 
 "Don't you know that she's one of the richest girls in 
 England?" 
 
 "Is that really true?" Blanche felt surprised, and more 
 than surprised, keenly interested. "How d'you know, 
 Bubbles? Lionel never told me ." 
 
 Bubbles gave a quick, queer look at her aunt. "Mr. 
 Tapster told me all about her last night," she answered. 
 "I suppose because he's so rich himself he takes a kind of 
 morbid interest in other rich people. He said that she's 
 the owner of one of the biggest metal-broking businesses 
 whatever that may mean in the world. But her uncle 
 
82 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 and aunt have never allowed her to know anyone or to 
 see anyone outside their own tiresome, fuggy old lot. 
 They've a perfect terror of fortune-hunters, it seems. 
 The poor girl's hardly ever spoken to a man not to what 
 / should call a man! I'm surprised they allowed her to 
 come here. I heard her tell Sir Lyon last night at dinner 
 that this was the first time she'd ever paid what she called 
 a country visit. Apparently Harrogate or Brighton is 
 those awful old people's idea of a pleasant change. Up 
 to now Miss Helen's own idea of heaven seems to have 
 been Strathpeffer." 
 
 "How very strange!" But Blanche Farrow was not 
 thinking of Helen Brabazon's possible idea of heaven as 
 she uttered the three words. 
 
 Bubbles chuckled. "I touched the old gentleman up a 
 bit yesterday/didn't I, Blanche?" 
 
 This gave her aunt the opportunity for which she was 
 seeking. "You did! And as a result he made up some 
 cock-and-bull excuse and went back to London this morn- 
 ing. Lionel is very much put out about it." 
 
 "I should have thought Lionel would have been glad," 
 said Bubbles, and there came into her voice the touch of 
 slight, almost insolent, contempt with which she generally 
 spoke of Lionel Varick. 
 
 "He was very far from glad; he was furious," said 
 Blanche gravely. 
 
 "I only did it because he said he wanted his guests en- 
 tertained," said Bubbles sulkily. 
 
 And then, after there had been a rather long silence 
 between them, she asked: "What did you think of it, 
 Blanche ? You'd never been at a seance before, had you ?" 
 
 Miss Farrow hesitated. "Of course I was impressed," 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 83 
 
 she acknowledged. "I kept wondering how you did it. 
 I mean that I kept wondering how those people's thoughts 
 were conveyed to your brain." 
 
 "Then you didn't believe that I saw anything of the 
 things I said I saw?" said Bubbles slowly. "You thought 
 it was all fudge on my part?" 
 
 Her aunt reddened. "I don't quite know what you 
 mean by saying that. Of course I don't believe you saw 
 the the figures you described so clearly.' But I realized 
 that in some queer way you must have got hold of the 
 memory of your victims. Lionel admits that you did so 
 in his case." 
 
 "Does he indeed?" Bubbles spoke with sharp sarcasm. 
 
 There rose before her a vision of her host's pale, star- 
 tled face. In some ways he had been the most inwardly 
 perturbed of her last night's sitters, and she, the medium, 
 had been well aware of it. 
 
 "I wonder," she said suddenly and inconsequently, 
 "if Lionel has some enemy I mean a woman in his life, 
 of whom his friends know nothing?" 
 
 Blanche looked dubiously at the girl. "That's the sort 
 of thing one can never know about a man," she said 
 slowly. 
 
 "The woman I mean" Bubbles was going on rather 
 quickly and breathlessly now "is not a young woman. 
 She's about sixty, I should think. She has a plain, power- 
 ful face, with a lot of grey hair turned off her fore- 
 head." 
 
 "Have you ever seen such a person with Lionel ?" asked 
 Miss Farrow. 
 
 "No, not exactly." 
 
 "What do you mean, Bubbles?" 
 
84 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "I can't quite explain what I mean. Even before the 
 seance I seemed to feel her last night. I suppose you 
 would say I saw her in his mind in what some people 
 would call his inner consciousness." 
 
 Blanche stared at the girl uncomfortably. "D'you 
 mean you can always see what people are thinking of?" 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 Bubbles burst out laughing. "Of course I can't! You 
 needn't feel nervous." She went up to her aunt, and 
 thrust her hand through the other's arm. "Don't be wor- 
 ried, old thing" she spoke very affectionately. "I've 
 promised Bill that I'll put everything of the kind he and 
 father disapprove of away just while I'm here! But 
 still, Blanche " 
 
 Miss Farrow had never seen the girl in this serious, 
 thoughtful mood before. "Yes," she said. "Yes, Bub- 
 bles?" 
 
 "Oh, well, I only just wanted to quote something to you 
 that's rather hackneyed." 
 
 "Hackneyed?" repeated Miss Farrow. 
 
 "There are more things in heaven and earth, my dear, 
 than are dreamt of in your philsophy." 
 
 Blanche Farrow felt a little piqued. "I've never 
 doubted that," she said curtly. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 MEANWHILE, one of the subjects of their dis- 
 cussion was thoroughly enjoying her tour of 
 Wyndfell Hall; and as she entered each of the curious, 
 stately rooms upstairs and down, Helen Brabazon uttered 
 an exclamation of pleasure and rather na'ive admiration. 
 Not a corner or a passage-way but had some fine piece 
 of old furniture, some exquisite needle-picture or panel 
 of tapestry, in keeping with the general character of the 
 ancient dwelling place. 
 
 Her cicerone would have enjoyed their progress more 
 had it not been that his companion frequently referred to 
 his late wife. "How strange that Milly did not love this 
 wonderful old house!" she exclaimed. And then, when 
 they had gone a little further on, she suddenly asked : "I 
 wish you'd tell me which was Milly's room? Surely she 
 must have been happy here sometimes!' 5 
 
 But the new master of Wyndfell Hall had never even 
 thought of asking which had been his wife's room. And, 
 on seeing the troubled, embarrassed look which crossed 
 his face while he confessed his ignorance, Helen felt 
 sharply sorry that she had asked the question. To his 
 relief, she spoke no more of Milly, and of Milly's as- 
 sociation with the house which so charmed and at- 
 tracted her. 
 
 One of the strangest, most disturbing facts about our 
 complex human nature is how very little we know of what 
 
 85 
 
86 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 is passing in another's mind. Helen Brabazon would 
 have been amazed indeed had she seen even only a very 
 little way into her present companion's secret thoughts. 
 How surprised she would have been, for instance, to know 
 that the only thing about herself Varick would have liked 
 altered was her association with that part of his life 
 to which he never willingly returned, even in his thoughts. 
 The part of his life, that is, which had been spent by his 
 dying wife and himself at Redsands. It was with nervous 
 horror that he unwillingly recalled any incident, however 
 slight, connected with those tragic weeks. And yet Helen, 
 had she been asked, would have said that he must often 
 dwell on them in loving retrospect. She honestly believed 
 that the link between them, even now, was a survival of 
 what had been their mutual affection for the then dying 
 woman, and the touching dependence that same woman 
 had shown on their joint love and care. 
 
 As they wandered on together, apparently on the most 
 happily intimate terms of liking and of friendship, about 
 the delightful old house, there was scarce a thought in 
 Lionel Varick's mind that would not have surprised, dis- 
 turbed, and puzzled his companion. 
 
 For one thing, he was looking at Helen Brabazon far 
 more critically than he had looked at any woman for 
 a very long time, telling himself, rather ruefully the while, 
 that she was not the type of girl that at any time of his 
 life would have naturally attracted him. But he was well 
 aware that this was his misfortune, not his fault; and he 
 did like her he did respect her. 
 
 How strange it was to know that in her well-shaped 
 little hand there lay such immense potential power ! Varick 
 fully intended that that little hand should one day, sooner 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 87 
 
 rather than later, lie, confidingly, in his. And when that 
 happened he intended to behave very well. He would 
 "make good," as our American cousins call it; he would 
 go into public life, maybe, and make a big name for him- 
 self, and, incidentally, for her. What might he not do, 
 indeed with Helen Brabazon's vast fortune joined to 
 her impeccable good name! He did not wish to give up 
 his own old family name ; but why should they not become 
 the Brabazon-Varicks ? So far had he actually travelled 
 in his own mind, as he escorted his young lady guest 
 about the upper rooms and corridors of Wyndfell Hall. 
 
 As he glanced, now and again, at the girl walking com- 
 posedly by his side, he felt he would have given any- 
 thing anything to have known what was behind those 
 candid hazel eyes, that broad white brow. Again he was 
 playing for a great- stake, and playing, this time, more or 
 less in the dark. . . . 
 
 His mind and memory swung back, in spite of himself, 
 to his late wife. Milly Fauncey had liked him almost from 
 the first day they had met. It had been like the attraction 
 but of course that was the very last simile that would 
 have occurred to Varick himself of a rabbit for a cobra. 
 He had had but to look at the self-absorbed, shy, diffi- 
 dent human being, to fascinate and draw her to himself. 
 The task would have been almost too easy, but for the 
 dominant personality of poor Milly 's companion, Julia 
 Pigchalke. She had fought against him, tooth and claw; 
 but, cunning old Dame Nature had been on his side in 
 the fight, and, of course, Nature had won. 
 
 Miss Pigchalke. had always made the fatal mistake of 
 keeping her ex-pupil too much to herself. And during 
 a certain fatal three days when the companion had been 
 
88 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 confined to her hotel bedroom by a bad cold, the friend- 
 ship of shy, nervous Milly Fauncey, and of bold, confident 
 Lionel Varick, had fast ripened, fostered by the romantic 
 Italian atmosphere. During these three days Varick, 
 almost without trying to do so, had learnt all there was 
 to learn of the simple-minded spinster and of her finan- 
 cial circumstances. But he was not the man to take any 
 risk, and he had actually paid a flying visit to London a 
 visit of which he had later had the grace to feel secretly 
 ashamed for it had had for object that of making quite 
 sure, at Somerset House, that Miss Fauncey 's account of 
 herself was absolutely correct. 
 
 Yes, the wooing jf Milly Fauncey had been almost too 
 easy, and he knew that he was not likely to be so fortu- 
 nate this time. But now the prize to be won was such an 
 infinitely greater prize! 
 
 He told himself that he mustn't be impatient. This, 
 after all, was only the second day of Helen Brabazon's 
 stay at Wyndfell Hall. Perhaps it was a good thing that 
 her cantankerous old uncle had betaken himself off. Mis- 
 fortune had a way of turning itself into good fortune 
 where Lionel Varick was concerned; for he was bold and 
 brave, as well as always ready to seize opportunity at the 
 flood. 
 
 When, at last, they had almost finished their tour of 
 the house, and he was showing her into the haunted room, 
 she clapped her hands delightedly. "This is exactly the 
 sort of room in which one would expect to meet a 
 ghost!" she exclaimed. 
 
 The room into which she had just been ushered had, 
 in very truth, a strange, unused, haunted look. Very 
 different from that into which Helen had just peeped. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 89 
 
 For Miss Farrow's present bed-chamber, with its tapes- 
 tried and panelled walls, its red brocaded curtains, and 
 carved oak furniture, the whole lit up by a bright, cheer- 
 ful fire, was very cosy. But here, in the haunted room 
 next door, the fire was only lit at night, and now one 
 of the windows over the moat was open, and it was very 
 cold. 
 
 Helen went over to the open window. She leant over 
 and stared down into the dark, sullen-looking water. 
 
 "How beautiful this place must be in summer!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "I hope you will come and see it, this next summer." 
 
 Varick spoke in measured tones, b^t deep in his heart 
 he not only hoped, but he was determined on something 
 very different namely, that the girl now turning her 
 bright, guileless, eager face to his would then be installed 
 at Wyndfell Hall as his wife, and therefore as mistress of 
 the wonderful old house. And this hope, this imperious 
 determination, turned his mind suddenly to a less agree- 
 able subject of thought that is, to Bubbles Dunster. 
 
 Had he known what he now knew about Bubbles' cur- 
 ious gift, he would not have included her in his Christ- 
 mas party. He felt that she might become a disturbing 
 element in the pleasant gathering. Also he was beginning 
 to suspect that she did not like him, and it was a disagree- 
 able, unnerving suspicion in his present mood. 
 
 "What do you think of Bubbles Dunster?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, I like her !" cried Helen. "I think she's a wonder- 
 ful girl!" And then her voice took on a graver tinge: 
 "I couldn't help being very much impressed last night, 
 Mr. Varick. You see, my father, who died when I was 
 
9 o FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 only eight years old, always called me 'Girlie.' Somehow 
 that made me feel as if he was really there." 
 
 "And yet," said Varick slowly, "Bubbles told you 
 nothing that you didn't know? To my mind what hap- 
 pened last night was simply a clever exhibition of thought- 
 reading. She's always had the gift." 
 
 "The odd thing was," said Helen, after a moment's 
 hesitation, "that she said my father didn't like my being 
 here. That wasn't thought-reading " 
 
 "There's something a little queer a little tricky and 
 malicious sometimes about Bubbles," he said meaningly. 
 
 Helen looked at him, startled. "Is there really? How 
 how horrid !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, you mustn't take everything Bubbles says as 
 gospel truth," he observed, lighting a cigarette. "Still, 
 she's a very good sort in her way." 
 
 As he looked at her now puzzled, bewildered face, he 
 realized that he had produced on Helen's mind exactly 
 the impression he had meant to do. If Bubbles said 
 anything about him which well, which he would rather 
 was left unsaid Helen would take no notice of it. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE party spent the rest of the morning in making 
 friends with one another. Mr. Tapster had already 
 singled out Bubbles Dunster at dinner the night before. 
 He was one of those men there are many such who, 
 while professing to despise women, yet devote a great deal 
 of not very profitable thought to them, and to their 
 singular, unexpected, and often untoward behaviour! 
 
 As for Sir Lyon Dilsford, he was amused and touched 
 to discover that, as is so often the case with a young 
 and generous-hearted human being, Helen Brabazon had 
 a sincere, if somewhat vague, desire to use her money for 
 the good of humanity. He was also touched and amusedi 
 to find how ignorant she was of life, and how really 
 child-like, under her staid and sensible appearance. Of 
 what she called "society" she cherished an utter con- 
 tempt, convinced that it consisted of frivolous women and 
 idle men in a word, of heartless coquettes and of for- 
 tune-hunters. To Helen Brabazon the world of men and 4 
 women was still all white and all black. Sir Lyon, who, 
 like most intelligent men, enjoyed few things more than 
 playing schoolmaster to an attractive young'woman, found 
 the hour that he and Miss Brabazon spent together in the 
 library of Wyndfell Hall speed by all too quickly. They 
 were both sorry when the gong summoned them to 
 luncheon. 
 
 After a while Varick had persuaded Miss Burnaby 
 
 91 
 
92 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 to put on a hat and jacket, and go for a little walk alone 
 with him, while Blanche Farrow went off for a talk with 
 young Donnington. Bubbles was the subject of their 
 conversation, and different as were the ingenuous young 
 man and his somewhat cynical and worldly companion, 
 they found that they were cordially agreed as to the de- 
 sirability of Bubbles abandoning the practices which had 
 led to Mr. Burnaby's abrupt departure that morning. 
 
 "Of course, I think them simply an extension of the 
 extraordinary thought-reading gifts she had as a small 
 child," observed Blanche. 
 
 "I wish I could think it was only that I'm afraid it's a 
 good deal more than mere thought-reading," Donnington 
 said relucantly. 
 
 Luncheon was a pleasant, lively meal; and after they 
 had all had coffee and cigarettes, Bubbles managed to 
 press almost the whole party into the business of decorat- 
 ing the church. Their host entered into the scheme with 
 seeming heartiness; but at the last moment he and 
 Blanche Farrow elected to stay at home with Miss Bur- 
 naby. 
 
 The younger folk started off, a cheerful party James 
 Tapster, who, as the others realized by something he said, 
 hadn't been into a church, for years (he said he hated 
 weddings, and, on principle, never attended funerals) ; 
 Sir Lyon, who* was always at anyone's disposal when a 
 bit of work had to be done; Helen Brabazon, who declared 
 joyfully that she had always longed to decorate a country 
 church; Bubbles herself, who drove the donkey-cart piled 
 high with holly and with mistletoe ; and Donnington, who 
 pulled the donkey along. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 93 
 
 Suffolk is a county of noble village churches; but of 
 the lively group of young people who approached it on 
 this particular Christmas Eve, only Donnington under- 
 stood what a rare and perfect ecclesiastical building stood 
 before them. He had inherited from a scholarly father 
 a keen interest in church architecture, and he had read 
 an account of Darnaston church the night before in the 
 book which dealt with Wyndfell Hall and its surround- 
 ings. 
 
 They were met in the porch by the bachelor rector. 
 "This is really kind!" he exclaimed. "And it will be of 
 the greatest help, for I've been sent for to a neighbouring 
 parish unexpectedly, and I'm afraid that I can't stop and 
 help you." 
 
 As the little party passed through into the church, more 
 than one of them was impressed by its lofty beauty. In- 
 deed, the word which rose to both Sir Lyon's and Don- 
 nington's lips was the word "impressive." Neither of 
 them had ever seen so impressive a country church. 
 
 When lifted from the donkey-cart the little heap of 
 holly and other greenery looked pitifully small lying on 
 the stone floor of the central aisle; and though everyone 
 worked with a will, there wasn't very much to show for 
 it when Mr. Tapster declared, in a cross tone, that it 
 must be getting near tea-time. 
 
 "It's much more nearly finished than any of you rea- 
 lize," said Bubbles good-humouredly. "I've done this sort 
 of thing every year since I was quite a kid. Bill and I 
 will come down after tea and finish it up. We shan't 
 want you." 
 
 "I shouldn't mind coming back," exclaimed Helen 
 Brabazon. "I've enjoyed every minute of the time here !" 
 
94 FRONT OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 But Bubbles declared that she didn't want any of them 
 but Bill. All she would ask the other men to do would 
 be to cut down some trails of ivy. She explained that 
 she always avoided the use of ivy unless, as in this case, 
 quantity rather than quality was required. 
 
 So they all tramped cheerfully back to Wyndfell Hall. 
 
 Tea was served in the library, and the host looked on 
 with benign satisfaction at the lively scene, though Blanche 
 Farrow saw his face change and stiffen, when his pene- 
 trating eyes rested in turn for a long moment on Bubbles' 
 now laughing little face. Perhaps because of that frown- 
 ing look, she drew the girl after her into the hall. "Come 
 in here for a moment, Bubbles I want to speak to you. 
 I've just heard Helen Brabazon say something about rais- 
 ing the ghost. No more seances while I'm in command 
 here is that understood?" 
 
 And Bubbles looked up with an injured, innocent ex- 
 pression. "Of course it's understood! Though, as a 
 matter of fact, Miss Burnaby has already asked me to 
 give her a private sitting." 
 
 "You must promise me to refuse, Bubbles " Miss 
 
 Farrow spoke very decidedly. "I don't know how you do 
 what you did last night, and, to tell you the truth, I don't 
 care for it's none of my business. But there was one 
 moment this morning when I feared that horrid Mr. 
 Burnaby was going to take his sister and his niece away 
 and that really would have been serious !" 
 
 "Serious?" queried Bubbles. "Why serious, Blanche? 
 We should have got on very well without them." 
 
 Her aunt looked round. They were quite alone, stand- 
 ing, for the moment, in a far corner of the great room, 
 near the finely carved confessional box, which seemed, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 95 
 
 even to Blanche Farrow, an incongruous addition to the 
 furniture. 
 
 "You're very much mistaken, Bubbles ! Lionel would 
 have never forgiven you or me. He attaches great im- 
 portance to these people; Helen Brabazon was a great 
 friend of his poor wife's." She hesitated, and then said 
 rather awkwardly: "I sometimes wish you liked him 
 better; he's a good friend, Bubbles." 
 
 "I should think more a bad enemy than a good friend," 
 muttered the girl, in so low a voice that her aunt hardly 
 caught the ungracious words. 
 
 That was all but that was enough. Blanche told her- 
 self that she had now amply fulfilled the promise she had 
 made to Lionel Varick when the two had stood speeding 
 their parting guest this morning from Wyndfell Hall. 
 Even quite at the end Mr. Burnaby had been barely civil. 
 He seemed to think that there had been some kind of 
 conspiracy against him the night before; and as they 
 watched the car go over the moat bridge, Varick had mut- 
 tered : "I wouldn't have had this happen for a thousand 
 pounds!" But he had recovered his good temper, and 
 even apologized to Blanche for having felt so much put 
 out by the action of a cantankerous old man. 
 
 The others were now all streaming into the hall, and 
 Bubbles would hardly allow the good-natured Sir Lyon 
 and Bill Donnington to finish their cigarettes before she 
 shooed them out to cut down some ivy. Varick looked 
 annoyed when he heard that the decorations in the church 
 were not yet finished. "Can't we bribe some of the 
 servants to go down and do them?" he asked. "It seems 
 a shame that you and Donnington should have to go off 
 there again in the cold and darkness." 
 
96 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 But in her own way Bubbles had almost as strong a 
 will as had her host. She always knew what she wanted 
 to do, and generally managed to do it. "I would much 
 rather finish the work myself, and I think Bill would 
 rather come too," she said coolly. 
 
 So once more the little donkey-cart was loaded up with 
 holly and trails of ivy, and the two set off amid the good- 
 natured comments and chaff of the rest of the party. 
 James Tapster alone looked sulky and annoyed. He 
 wondered how a bright, amusing girl like Bubbles Dunster 
 could stand the company of such a commonplace young 
 man as was Bill Donnington. 
 
 As they reached the short stretch of open road which 
 separated Wyndfell Hall from the church, Bubbles felt 
 suddenly how cold it was. 
 
 "I think we shall have snow to-morrow," said Don- 
 nington, looking round at his companion. He could only 
 just see her little face in the twilight, and when they finally 
 passed through the porch in the glorious old church, it 
 seemed, for the first few moments, pitch-dark. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I like best about this church/' said 
 the girl suddenly. 
 
 "For my part," said Donnington simply, "I like every- 
 thing about it." 
 
 He struck a match, and after a few minutes of hard 
 work, managed to light several of the hanging oil lamps. 
 
 "What I like best," went on Bubbles, "are the animals 
 up there." 
 
 She pointed to where, just under the cambered oak 
 roof, there ran a dado, on which, carved in white bas- 
 relief, lions, hares, stags, dogs, cats, crocodiles, and birds, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 97 
 
 formed a singular procession, which was continued rpund 
 the nave and choir. 
 
 "Yes, I like them too," assented Donnington slowly. 
 "Though somehow I did feel this afternoon that they were 
 out of place in a church." 
 
 <fl Oh, how can you say that?" cried the girl. "I love 
 to think of them here! I'm sure that at night they leap 
 joyfully down, and skip about the church, praising the 
 Lord." 
 
 "Bubbles!" he exclaimed reprovingly. 
 
 "Almost any animal," she said, with a. touch of serious- 
 ness, "is nicer, taking it all in all, than almost any human 
 being." And then she quoted in the deep throaty voice 
 which was one of her greatest charms : 
 
 "A robin redbreast in a cage 
 Puts all Heaven in a rage." 
 
 "The one / should like to see put over every manger is : 
 
 "A horse misus'd upon the road 
 
 ' Calls to Heaven for human blood," 
 
 said Donnington. 
 
 "Oh!" she cried, "and Bill, surely the best of all is: 
 
 "A skylark wounded on the wing, 
 A cherubim doth cease to sing." 
 
 Donnington smiled. "I suppose I'm more practical 
 than you are," he said. "If I were a schoolmaster, I'd 
 have inscribed on the walls of every classroom : 
 
 "Kill not the moth or butterfly, 
 For the Last Judgment draweth nigh." 
 
 They worked very hard during the half -hour that fol- 
 lowed, though only the finishing touches remained to be 
 
9 8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 done. Still, it meant moving a ladder about, and stretch- 
 ing one's arms a good deal, and Bubbles insisted on doing 
 her full share of everything. 
 
 /'Let's rest a few minutes," she said at last, and leading 
 the way up the central aisle, she sat down wearily in one 
 of the carved, choir stalls. 
 
 Then she lifted her arms, and putting her hands behind 
 her neck, she tipped her head back. 
 The young man came and sat down in the next stall. 
 Bubbles was leaning back more comfortably now, her red 
 cap almost off her head. There was a great look of rest- 
 fulness on her pale, sensitive face. 
 
 She put out her hand and felt for his ; after a moment 
 of hesitation he slid down and knelt close to her. 
 
 "Bubbles," he whispered, "my darling darling Bub- 
 bles. I wish that here and now you would make up your 
 
 mind to give up everything " He stopped speaking, 
 
 and bending, kissed her hand. 
 
 "Yes," she said dreamily. "Give up everything, Bill? 
 Perhaps I will. But what do you mean by everything?" 
 
 There was a self-pitying note in her low, vibrant voice. 
 "You know it is given to people, sometimes, to choose 
 between good and evil. I'm afraid" she leant forward, 
 and passed her right hand, with a touch of tenderness most 
 unusual with her, over his upturned face and curly hair 
 "I'm a.fraid, Bill, that, almost without knowing it, I 
 chose evil, 'Evil, be thou my good/ Isn't that what the 
 wicked old Satanists used to say ?" 
 
 "Don't you say it too!" he exclaimed, sharply dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 "I know I acted stupidly in fact, as we're in a church 
 I don't mind saying I acted very wrongly last night." 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 99 
 
 Bubbles spoke in a serious tone more seriously, in- 
 deed, than she had ever yet spoken to her faithful, long- 
 suffering friend. "But a great deal of what happens to 
 me and round me, Bill, I can't help I wish I could/* she 
 said slowly. 
 
 "I don't quite undstand." There was a painful choking 
 feeling in his throat. "Try and tell me what you mean, 
 Bubbles." 
 
 "What I mean is clear enough" she now spoke with a 
 touch of impatience. "I mean that wherever I am, They 
 come too, and gather about me. It wasn't my fault that 
 that horrible Thing appeared to Pegler as soon as I en- 
 tered the house." 
 
 "But why should you think the ghost Pegler saw if 
 she did see it had anything to do with you ? Wyndfell 
 Hall has been haunted for over a hundred years so the 
 village people say." 
 
 "Pegler saw nothing till I came. And though I struggle 
 against the belief, and though I very seldom admit it, even 
 to myself, I know quite well, Bill, that I'm never really 
 alone never free of Them unless unless, Bill, I'm in a 
 holy place, when they don't dare to come." 
 
 There was a tone of fear, of awful dread, in her voice. 
 In spite of himself he felt impressed. 
 
 "But why should they come specially round you?" he 
 asked uneasily. 
 
 "You know as well as I do that I'm a strong medium. 
 But I'll tell you, Bill, something which I've never told 
 you before." 
 
 "Yes," he said, with a strange sinking of the heart. 
 "What's that, Bubbles?" 
 
 "You know that Persian magician, or Wise Man, 
 
ioo FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 whom certain people in London went cracked over last 
 spring?" 
 
 "The man you would go and see?" 
 I ''Yes, of course I mean that man. Well, when he saw 
 me he made his interpreter tell me that he had a special 
 message for me " 
 
 Bubbles was leaning forward now, her hands resting 
 on Bill's shoulders. "I wonder if I ought to tell you all 
 he said," she whispered. "Perhaps I ought to keep it 
 secret." 
 
 "Of course you ought to tell me! What was the mes- 
 sage?" 
 
 "He said that I had rent the veil, wilfully, and that I 
 was often surrounded by the evil demons who had come 
 rushing through; that only by fasting and praying could 
 I hope to drive them back, and close the rent which I had 
 made." 
 
 "I shouldn't allow myself to think too much of what 
 he said," said Bill hoarsely. "And yet and yet, Bub- 
 bles? There may have been something in it ." 
 
 He spoke very earnestly, poor boy. 
 
 "Of course there was a great deal in it. But they're not 
 always demons," she said slowly. "Now, for instance, as 
 I sit here, where good, simple people have been praying 
 together for hundreds of years, the atmosphere is kind 
 and holy, not wicked and malignant, as it was last night." 
 
 She waited a moment, then began again, "I remember 
 going into a cottage not long ago, where an old man holds 
 a prayer meeting every Wednesday evening he's a Dis- 
 senter you know the sort of man I mean? Well, I felt 
 extraordinarily comforted, and left alone." 
 
 Her voice sank to a low whisper. "I suppose" there 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP joi 
 
 came a little catch in her voice " I suppose, Bill, that I. 
 am what people used to call 'possessed.-'' Irv p;d- 'd&yt' I 
 should have been burnt as a witch. Sometimes I feel as 
 if a battle were going on round me and for me a battle 
 between good and evil spirits. That was what I was feel- 
 ing last night, before you came up. I couldn't rest I 
 couldn't stay in bed. I felt as if I must move about to 
 avoid " 
 
 "To avoid what?" he asked. 
 
 " Their clutchings." 
 
 Her voice dropped. "I've been in old houses where I 
 seemed to know everything about every ghost!" she 
 tried to smile. "People don't change when they what we 
 call die. If they're dull and stupid, they remain dull and 
 stupid. But here in Wyndfell Hall, I'm frightened. I'm 
 frightened of Varick I feel as if there were something 
 secret, secret and sinister, about him. I seem to hear 
 the words, 'Beware beware,' when he is standing by 
 me. What do you think about him, Bill? There are a 
 lot of lying spirits about." 
 
 "I haven't thought much about Varick one way or the 
 other," said Donnington reluctantly. "But I should have 
 have thought he was a good chap. See how fond Miss 
 Farrow is of him?" 
 
 "That doesn't mean much," she said dreamily. 
 "Blanche doesn't know anything about human nature 
 she only thinks she does. She's no spiritual vision left at 
 all." 
 
 "I'm sorry you have that feeling about Varick," said 
 Bill uncomfortably. 
 
 "Varick is never alone," said Bubbles slowly. "When 
 I first arrived, and he came out to the porch to meet me, 
 
102 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 there was Something standing by him, which looked so 
 reai,' Bill/ 'that X thought it really was a woman of flesh 
 and blood. I nearly said to him, Who's that ? Introduce 
 
 me.' 
 
 "D'you mean you think you actually see spirits, even 
 when you're not setting out to do so, Bubbles?" asked 
 Bill. 
 
 She had never said that to him before. But then this 
 was the first time she had ever talked to him as freely 
 and as frankly as she was talking now. 
 
 "Yes, that's exactly what I do mean," she said. "It's a 
 sort of power that grows and oh, Bill, I'd do anything 
 in the world to get rid of it! But this woman whom I 
 saw standing by Lionel Varick in the porch was not a 
 spirit. She was an astral body; that is, she was alive 
 somewhere else : it was her thoughts her vengeful, ma- 
 licious thoughts which brought her here." 
 
 "I can't believe that !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "It's true, Bill. Though I never saw an astral body be- 
 fore, I knew that Thing to be one as soon as I realized 
 it wasn't a real woman standing there." What was she 
 like?" he asked, impressed against his will. 
 
 "An ugly, commonplace-looking woman. But she had 
 a powerful, determined sort of face, and she was staring 
 up at him with a horrible expression : I could see that she 
 hated him, and wished him ill " 
 
 "Have you ever seen the the Thing again?" 
 
 Yes, of course I have. The same astral body was there 
 last night. It was from her that his mother was trying 
 to shield him." 
 
 "But you've never seen this astral body as you call it 
 excepting on those two occasions?" 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 103 
 
 Bubbles hesitated. "I've only seen her clearly twice. 
 But during the week that I've been here, I've often felt 
 that she was close to Lionel Varick." 
 
 "And what's your theory about her? Why does she 
 hate him, I mean?" 
 
 "My theory ?" the girl hesitated again. "I should 
 
 think it's someone he was fond of when he was a young 
 man, and whom he treated badly. She's ugly enough 
 now but then women do change so." 
 
 "Bubbles," he uttered her name very seriously. 
 
 "Yes, Bill?" 
 
 "Surely you can stop yourself seeing these kind of 
 strange, dreadful, unnatural things?" 
 
 Bubbles did not answer all at once. And then she said : 
 "Yes and no, Bill! It sometimes happens that I see 
 what you would call a ghost without wishing to see it ; yet 
 I confess that sometimes I could stop myself. But it ex- 
 cites and stimulates me ! I feel a sort of longing to be in 
 touch with what no one else is in touch with. But I'll tell 
 you one thing" she was pressing up closer to him now, 
 and his heart was beating. ... If only this enchanted 
 hour could go on if only Bubbles would continue in this 
 gentle, sincere, confiding mood 
 
 "Yes," he said hoarsely, "what will you tell me?" 
 
 "I never see anything bad when I'm with you. I think 
 I saw your Guardian Angel the other day, Bill." 
 
 He tried to laugh. 
 
 "Indeed I did! Though you are so tiresome and prig- 
 gish," she whispered, "though often, as you know, I 
 should like to shake you, still, I know that you've chosen 
 the good way; that's why our ways lie so apart, dear- 
 est " 
 
;i<H FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 As she uttered the strange words, she had slid down, 
 and was now lying in his arms, her face turned up to his 
 in the dim light. . . . 
 
 Their ways apart? Ah, no I He caught her fiercely 
 to his heart, and for the first time their lips met in a 
 long, clinging kiss. 
 
 Then, all at once, he got up and pulled Bubbles on to 
 her feet. "We must be going back to the house," he 
 said, speaking with a touch of hardness and decision 
 which was rare in his dealings with the girl. 
 
 "Watch with me, and pray for me," she muttered 
 and then : "You don't know what a comfort you are to 
 me, Bill." 
 
 A wild wish suddenly possessed him to turn and im- 
 plore her, now that she was in this strange, gentle, yield- 
 ing mood, to marry him at once to become his wife in 
 secret, under any conditions that seemed good to her! 
 But he checked the impulse, drove it back, tie felt that 
 he would be taking a mean advantage if he did that now. 
 She had once said to him: "I must marry a rich man, 
 Bill. I should make any poor man miserable." 
 
 He had never forgotten that, nor forgiven her for say- 
 ing it though he had never believed that it was true. 
 
 Almost as if she was reading into his mind, Bubbles 
 said wistfully : "You won't leave off caring for me, Bill ? 
 
 Not even if I marry somebody else? Not even ?" 
 
 She laughed nervously, and her laugh, to Donnington a 
 horrible laugh, echoed through the dimly lit church. "Not 
 even," she repeated, "if I bring myself to marry Mr. 
 Tapster?" 
 
 He seized her roughly by the arm. "What d'you mean, 
 Bubbles ?" he asked sternly. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 105 
 
 "Don't do that! You hurt me I was only joking," 
 she said, shrinking back. "But you are really too simple, 
 Bill. Didn't it occur to you that Mr. Tapster had been 
 asked here for me?" 
 
 "For you?" He uttered the words mechanically. He 
 understood now why men sometimes murder their sweet- 
 hearts for no apparent motive. 
 
 "He's not a bad sort. It isn't his fault that he's so 
 repulsive. It wouldn't be fair if he was as rich as that, 
 and good-looking, and amiable, and agreeable, as well 
 would it?" 
 
 They were walking down the church, and perhaps Bub- 
 bles caught a glimpse into his heart: "I'm a beast," she 
 exclaimed. "A beast to have spoiled our time together 
 in this dear old church by saying that to you about Mr. 
 Tapster. Try and forget it, Bill!" 
 
 He made no answer. His brain was in a whirlwind 
 of wrath, of suspicion, of anger, of sick jealousy. This 
 was the real danger not all the nonense that Bubbles 
 talked about her power of raising ghosts, and of being 
 haunted by unquiet spirits. The real danger the girl was 
 in now was that of being persuaded into marrying that 
 loathsome Tapster for'liis money. 
 
 He left her near the door while he went back to put 
 out the lights. Then he groped his way to where she 
 was standing, waiting for him. In the darkness he looked 
 for, found, and lifted, the heavy latch. Together they 
 began pacing down the path between the graves in the 
 churchyard, and then all of a sudden he put his hand 
 on her arm : "What's that ? Hark !" he whispered. 
 
 He seemed to hear issuing from the grand old church 
 a confused, musical medley of sounds a bleating, a 
 
106 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 neighing, a lowing, even a faint trumpeting, all mingling 
 together and forming a strange, not unmelodious har- 
 mony. 
 
 "D'you hear anything, Bubbles?" he asked, his heart 
 beating, his face, in the darkness, all aglow. 
 
 "No, nothing," she answered back, surprised. "We 
 must hurry, Bill. We're late as it is." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 IT had been Bubbles' happy idea that the children of 
 the tiny hamlet which lay half-a-mile from Wyndfell 
 Hall, should have a Christmas tree. Hers, also, that the 
 treat for the children was to be combined with the dis- 
 tribution of a certain amount of coal and of other creature 
 comforts to -the older folk. 
 
 All the arrangements with regard to this double func- 
 tion had been made before the party at Wyndfell Hall 
 had been gathered together. But still, there were all sorts 
 of last things to be thought of, and Lionel Varick and 
 Bubbles became quite chummy over the affair. 
 
 Blanche Farrow was secretly amused to note with what 
 zest her friend threw himself into the role of country 
 squire. She thought it a trifle absurd, the more so that, 
 as a matter of fact, the people of Wyndfell Green were 
 not his tenants, for he had only a life interest in the house 
 itself. But Varick was determined to have a good, old- 
 fashioned country Christmas; and he was seconded in 
 his desire not only by Bubbles, but by Helen Brabazon, 
 who entered into everything with an almost childish eager- 
 ness. Indeed, the doings on Christmas Day brought her 
 and Bubbles together, too. They began calling each other 
 by their Christian names, and soon the simple-minded 
 heiress became as if bewitched by the other girl. 
 
 "She's a wonderful creature/' she confided to that same 
 wonderful girl's aunt. "I've never known anyone in the 
 
 107 
 
;io8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 least like Bubbles ! At first I confess I thought her very 
 odd she almost repelled me. But now I can see what a 
 kind, good heart she has, and I do hope she'll let me be 
 her friend." 
 
 "I think you would be a very good friend for Bub- 
 bles," answered Blanche pleasantly. "You're quite right 
 as to one thing, Miss Brabazon she has a very kind, 
 warm heart. She loves to give people pleasure. She's 
 quite delightful with children." 
 
 The speaker felt that it would indeed be a good thing if 
 Bubbles could attach herself to such a simple yet sensible 
 friend as was this enormously rich girl. "And if you 
 really like Bubbles," went on Blanche Farrow deliberate- 
 ly, "then I should like just to tell you one or two things 
 about her." 
 
 Helen became all eager, pleased attention. "Yes?" she 
 exclaimed. "I wish you would! Bubbles interests me 
 more than anyone I ever met." 
 
 "I want to tell you that I and Bubbles' father very 
 much regret her going in for all that that occultism, 
 I believe it's called." 
 
 "But you and Mr. Varick both think it's only thought- 
 reading," said Helen quickly. 
 
 Blanche felt rather surprised. It was acute and clever 
 of the girl to have said that. But no doubt Miss Burnaby 
 had repeated their conversation. 
 
 "Yes ; I personally think it's only thought-reading. Still, 
 it's thought-reading carried very far. The kind of power 
 Bubbles showed the night before last seems to me partly 
 hypnotic, and that's why I disapprove of it so strongly." 
 
 "I agree," said Helen thoughtfully. "It was much 
 more than ordinary thought-reading. And I suppose that 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 109 
 
 it's true that she thought she saw the the spirits she 
 described so wonderfully?" 
 
 "I doubt if even she thought she actually saw them. 
 I think she only perceived each image in the mind of 
 the person to whom she was speaking." 
 
 "I suppose," asked Helen hesitatingly, "that you 
 haven't the slightest belief in ghosts, Miss Farrow?" 
 
 "No, I haven't the slightest belief in ghosts," Blanche 
 smiled. "But I do believe that if a person thinks suffi- 
 ciently hard about it, he or she can almost evolve the 
 figure of a ghost. I think that's what happened to my 
 maid the other night. Pegler's a most sensible person, 
 yet she's quite convinced that she saw the ghost of the 
 woman who is believed to have killed her little step-son 
 in the room next to that in which I am now sleep- 
 ing." 
 
 And then as she saw a rather peculiar look flit over 
 her companion's face, she added quickly: "D'you think 
 that you have seen anything since you've been here, Miss 
 Brabazon?" 
 
 Helen hesitated. "No," she said. "I haven't exactly 
 seen anything. But well, the truth is, Miss Farrow, 
 that I do feel sometimes as if Wyndfell Hall was haunted 
 by the spirit of my poor friend Milly, Mr. Varick's wife. 
 Perhaps I feel as I do because, of course, I know that 
 this strange and b^iutiful old house was once her home. 
 It's pathetic, isn't ft, to see how very litlte remains of her 
 here? One might, indeed, say that nothing remains of 
 her at all! I haven't even been able to find out which 
 was her room; and I've often wondered in the last two 
 days whether she generally sat in the hall or in that lovely 
 little drawing-room." 
 
i io FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "I can tell you one thing/' said Blanche rather shortly, 
 "that is that there is a room in this house called 'the 
 schoolroom.' It's between the dining-room and the serv- 
 ants' offices. I believe it was there that Miss Fauncey, as 
 the people about here still call her, used to do her lessons, 
 with a rather disagreeable woman rejoicing in the extra- 
 ordinary name of Pigchalke, who lived on with her till 
 she married." 
 
 "That horrible, horrible woman!" exclaimed Helen. 
 "Of course I know about her. She adored poor Milly. 
 But she was an awful tyrant to her all the same. She 
 actually wrote to me some time ago. It was such an 
 odd letter quite a mad letter, in fact. It struck me as 
 so queer that before answering it I sent it on to Mr. 
 Varick. She wanted to see me, to talk to me about poor 
 Milly's last illness. She has a kind of crazy hatred of Mr. 
 Varick. Of course I got out of seeing her. Luckily we 
 were just starting for Strathpeffer. I put her off I 
 didn't actually refuse. I said I couldn't see her then, 
 but that I would write to her later." 
 
 "Lionel mentioned her to me the other day. He al- 
 lows her a hundred a year," said Blanche indifferently. 
 
 "How very good of him !" in a very different tone of 
 voice she said musingly : "I have sometimes wondered if 
 the room I'm sleeping in now was that in which Milly 
 slept as a girl. Sometimes I feel as if she was close to 
 me, trying to speak to me it's a most queer, uncanny, 
 
 horrid kind of feeling!" 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Blanche and Bubbles knew from experience that Christ* 
 mas Day in the country is not invariably a pleasant day; 
 but they had thought out every arrangement to make it 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP in 
 
 "go" as well as was possible. They were all to have a 
 sort of early tea, and then those who felt like it would 
 proceed to the village schoolroom, and help with the 
 Christmas Treat. 
 
 An important feature of the proceedings was to be a 
 short speech by Lionel Varick. Blanche had found, to 
 her surprise and amusement, that he had set his heart on 
 making it. He wanted to get into touch with his poorer 
 neighbours not only in a material sense, by distributing 
 gifts of beef and blankets; that he had already arranged 
 to do but in a closer, more human sense. No one she 
 had ever known desired more ardently to be liked than 
 did the new owner of Wyndfell Hall. - 
 
 The programme was carried out to the letter. They 
 all drank a cup of tea standing in the hall when dressed 
 ready for their expedition. Everyone was happy, every- 
 one was in a good humour excepting, perhaps, Bill Don- 
 nington. The few words Bubbles had said concerning Mr. 
 Tapster had frightened, as well as angered him. He 
 watched the unattractive millionaire with jealous eyes. 
 It was only too clear that Bubbles had fascinated James 
 Tapster, as she generally did all dull and unimaginative 
 people. But Donnington, perforce, had to keep his jealous 
 feelings to himself; and after they had all reached the 
 school-room of the pretty, picturesque little village, he 
 found he had far too much to do in helping to serve the 
 hungry children and their parents with the feast provided 
 for them, to have time for private feelings of fear, jeal- 
 ousy and pain. 
 
 A small platform had been erected across one end of 
 the room. But the programme of the proceedings which 
 were to take place thereon only contained two items. The 
 
ii2 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 first of these took most of the Wyndfell Hall house-party 
 completely by surprise; for Bubbles and her aunt had 
 kept their secret well. 
 
 Tables had been pushed aside, benches put end to end ; 
 the whole audience, with Lionel Varick's guests in front, 
 were seated, when suddenly there leapt on to the plat- 
 form the strangest and most fantastic-looking little figure 
 imaginable ! 
 
 For a moment no one, except Bill Donnington, guessed 
 who or what the figure was. There came a great clap- 
 ping of hands and stamping of feet for, of course, it 
 was Bubbles ! Bubbles dressed up as a witch red cloak, 
 high peaked hat, short multi-coloured skirt, high boots and 
 broom-stick all complete ! 
 
 When the applause had died down, she recited a quaint 
 little poem of her own composition, wishing all there pres- 
 ent the best of luck in the coming year. And then she 
 executed a kind of fantastic pas seul, skimming hither and 
 thither across the tiny stage. 
 
 Everyone watched her breathlessly: Donnington with 
 mingled admiration, love, and jealous disapproval; James 
 Tapster with a feeling that perhaps the time had come 
 for him to allow himself to be "caught" at last; Helen, 
 Brabazon with wide-eyed, kindly envy of the other girl's 
 cleverness; Varick with a queer feeling of growing sus- 
 picion and dislike. 
 
 Finally, Bubbles waved her broom-stick, and more than 
 one of those present imagined that they saw the light, 
 airy-looking little figure flying across the hall, and so out 
 of a window . 
 
 The whole performance did not last five minutes, and 
 yet few of those who were present ever forgot it. It 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 113 
 
 was so strange, so uncanny, so vivid. Bill Donnington 
 heard one of the village women behind him say : "There 
 now! Did you ever see the like? She was the sort they 
 burnt in the old days, and I don't wonder, either." 
 
 After this exciting performance the appearance of "the 
 squire," as some of the village people were already begin- 
 ning to call him, did not produce, perhaps, quite the sen- 
 sation it might have done had he been the first instead of 
 the second item on the programme. But as he stood there, 
 a fine figure of a man, his keen, good-looking face lit up 
 with a very agreeable expression of kindliness and of 
 good-will, a wave of appreciation seemed to surge towards 
 him from the body of the hall. 
 
 Poor Milly's father had been the sort of landowner 
 to the honour of England be it said the species has ever 
 been comparatively rare who regarded his tenants as of 
 less interest than the livestock on his home farm. What 
 he had done for them he had done grudgingly ; but it was 
 even now clear to them all that in the new squire they had 
 a very different kind of gentleman. 
 
 Varick was moved and touched far more so than any 
 of those present realized. The scene before him this 
 humble little school-room, and the simple people standing 
 there meant to him the fulfilment of a life-long dream. 
 And that was not all. As he was hesitating for his first 
 word, his eyes rested on the front bench of his audience, 
 and he saw Helen Brabazon's eager, guileless face, up- 
 turned to his, full of interest and sympathy. 
 
 He also felt himself in touch with the others there. 
 Blanche, looking her own intelligent, dignified, pleasant 
 self, was a goodly sight. Sir Lyon Dilsford, too, was in 
 the picture; but Varick felt a sudden pang of sympathy 
 
ii 4 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 for the landless baronet. Sir Lyon would have made such 
 a good, conscientious squire ; he was the kind of man who 
 would have helped the boys to get on in the world the 
 girls, if need be, to make happy marriages. James Tap- 
 ster looked rather out of it all; he looked his apathetic, 
 sulky self a man whom nothing would ever galvanize 
 into real good-fellowship. How could so intelligent a 
 woman as Blanche think that any money could compensate 
 a clever, high-spirited girl like Bubbles for marrying a 
 James Tapster? Varick was glad Bubbles was not "in 
 front. " She was probably divesting herself of that ex- 
 traordinary witch costume of hers behind the little cur- 
 tained aperture to his left. 
 
 And then, all at once, he realized that Bubbles was 
 among his audience after all! She was sitting by 
 herself, on a little stool just below the platform. He sud- 
 denly saw her head, with its shock of dark-brown hair, 
 and there came over him a slight feeling of discomfort. 
 Bubbles had worked like a Trojan. All this could not 
 have happened but for her; and yet and yet Varick 
 again told himself that he could very well have dispensed 
 with Bubbles from his Christmas house party. There was 
 growing up, in his dark, secretive heart, an unreasoning, 
 violent dislike to the girl. 
 
 All these disconnected thoughts flashed through his 
 mind in something under half-a-minute, and then Varick 
 made his pleasant little speech, welcoming the people there, 
 and saying he hoped there would ensue a long and pleas- 
 ant connection between them. 
 
 There was a great deal more stamping of feet and hand- 
 clapping, and then gradually the company, gentle and 
 simple, dispersed. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 115 
 
 Miss Farrow still had long and luxuriant hair, and 
 perhaps the pleasantest half-hour in each day had come 
 to be that half-hour just before she dressed for dinner, 
 when Pegler, with gentle, skilful fingers, brushed and 
 combed her mistress's beautiful tresses, and finally dressed 
 them to the best advantage. 
 
 On Christmas night this daily ceremony had been put 
 off till Miss Farrow's bed-time, when, after a quiet, short 
 evening, the party had broken up on the happiest terms 
 with one another. 
 
 As Blanche sat down, and her maid began taking the 
 hairpins out of her hair, she told herself with a feeling of 
 gratification that this had been one of the pleasantest 
 Christmas days she had ever spent. Everything had gone 
 off so well, and she could see that Varick had enjoyed 
 every moment of it, from his surprise distribution of 
 little gifts to his guests at breakfast, to the last warm, 
 grateful hand-shake on the landing outside her door. 
 
 "Were you in the school-room, Pegler?" she asked 
 kindly. "It was really rather charming, wasn't it? Every- 
 one happy the children and the old people especially. 
 And they all so enjoyed Miss Bubbles' dressing up as a 
 witch!" 
 
 "Why, yes," said Pegler grudgingly. "It was all very 
 nice, ma'am, in a way, and, as you say, it all went off very 
 well. But there's a queer rumour got about already, 
 ma'am." 
 
 "A queer rumour? What d'you mean, Pegler?" 
 
 "Quite a number of the village folk say that Mr. 
 
 Varick's late lady, the one who used to live here " 
 
 Pegler stopped speaking suddenly, and went on brushing 
 her mistress's hair more vigorously. 
 
ii6 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Yes, Pegler?" Miss Farrow spoke with a touch of 
 impatience. "What about Mrs. Lionel Varick?" 
 
 "Well, ma'am, I don't suppose you'll credit it, but 
 quite a number of them do say that her sperrit was there 
 during this afternoon. One woman I spoke to, who was 
 school-room maid here a matter of twenty years back, 
 said she saw her as clear as clear, up on the platform, 
 wearing the sort of grey dress she used to wear when she 
 was a girl, ma'am, when her father was still alive. None 
 of the men seem to have seen her but quite a number of 
 the women did. The post-mistress says sjie could have 
 sworn to her anywhere." 
 
 "What absolute nonsense!" 
 
 Blanche felt shocked as well as vexed. 
 
 "It was when Mr. Varick was making that speech of 
 his," said Pegler slowly. "If you'll pardon me, ma'am, 
 for saying so, it don't seem nonsense to me. After what 
 I've seen myself, I can believe anything. Seeing is be- 
 lieving, ma'am." 
 
 "People's eyes very often betray them, Pegler. Haven't 
 you sometimes looked at a thing and thought it some- 
 thing quite different from what it really was?" 
 
 "Yes, I have," acknowledged Pegler reluctantly. "And 
 of course, the lighting was very bad. Some of the people 
 hope that Mr. Varick's going to bring electric light into 
 the village d'you think he'll do that, ma'am?" 
 
 "No," said Miss Farrow decidedly. "I shouldn't think 
 there's a hope of it. The village doesn't really belong to 
 him, Pegler. It was wonderfully kind of him to give what 
 he did give to-day, to a lot of people with whom he has 
 really nothing to do at all." 
 
 And then, after her maid had gone, Blanche lay in bed, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP . 117 
 
 and stared into the still bright fire. Her brain seemed 
 abnormally active, and she found it impossible to go 
 to sleep. What a curious, uncanny, uncomfortable story 
 that of "poor Milly's" ghost appearing on the little plat- 
 form of the village school-room ! There seems no meas- 
 ure, even in these enlightened days, to what people will say 
 and believe. 
 
 And then there flashed across her a recollection of the 
 fact that Bubbles had been there, sitting just below Lionel 
 Varick. Strange, half-forgotten stories of Indian magic 
 of a man hung up in chains padlocked by British offi- 
 cers, and then, a moment later, that same man, freed, 
 standing in their midst, the chains rattling together, empty 
 floated through Blanche Farrow's mind. Was it possi- 
 ble that Bubbles possessed uncanny powers powers 
 which had something to do with the immemorial magic of 
 the immemorial East ? 
 
 Blanche had once heard the phenomenon of the vanish- 
 ing rope trick discussed at some length between a number 
 of clever people. She had paid very little attention to 
 what had been said at the time, but she now strained 
 her memory to recapture the sense of the words which 
 had been uttered. One of the men present, a distinguished 
 scientist, had actually seen the trick done. He had seen an 
 Indian swarm up the rope and disappear into thin air! 
 What had he called it ? Collective hypnotism ? Yes, that 
 was the expression he had used. Some such power Bub- 
 bles certainly possessed, and perhaps to-day she had 
 chosen to exercise it by recalling to the minds of those 
 simple village folk the half-forgotten figure of the one- 
 time mistress of Wyndfell Hall. If she had really done 
 
n8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 this, Bubbles had played an ungrateful, cruel trick on 
 Lionel Varick. 
 
 Blanche at last dropped off to sleep, but Pegler's ridicu- 
 lous yet sinister story had spoilt the pleasant memories 
 of her day, and even her night, for she slept badly, and 
 awoke unrefreshed. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THERE are few places in a civilized country more 
 desolate than a big, empty country railway station : 
 such a station as that at Newmarket an amusing, bus- 
 tling sight on a race day ; strangely still and deserted, even 
 on a fine summer day, when there's nothing doing in the 
 famous little town; and, in the depth of winter, extraor- 
 dinarily forlorn. The solitariness and the desolation were 
 very marked on the early afternoon of New Year's Eve 
 which saw Varick striding up and down the deserted plat- 
 form waiting for Dr. Panton, and Dr. 'Panton's insep- 
 arable companion, a big, ugly, intelligent spaniel called 
 Span. 
 
 Varick had more than one reason to be grateful to the 
 young medical man with whom Fate had once thrown him 
 into such close contact; and so this last spring, when 
 Panton had had to be in London for a few days, Varick 
 had taken a deal of trouble to ensure that the country 
 doctor should have a good time. But his own pleasure in 
 his friend's company had been somewhat spoilt by some- 
 thing Panton had then thought it right to tell him. This 
 something was that his late wife's one-time companion, 
 Miss Pigchalke, had gone to Redsands, and, seeking out 
 the doctor, had tried to force him to say that poor Mrs. 
 Varick had been ill-treated or if not exactly ill-treated, 
 then neglected by her husband, during her last illness. 
 
 "I wouldn't have told you, but that I think you ought 
 
 119 
 
120 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 to know that the woman has an inexplicable grudge 
 against you," he had said. 
 
 "Not inexplicable," Varick had answered quietly. "For 
 Julia Pigchalke first came as governess to Wyndfell Hall 
 when my wife was ten years old, and she stayed on with 
 her ultimately as companion in fact as more friend than 
 companion. Of course I queered her pitch!" 
 
 And then, rather hesitatingly, he had gone on to tell 
 Dr. Panton that he was now paying his enemy an annuity 
 of a hundred a year. This had been left to Miss Pigchalke 
 in an early will made by his poor wife, but it had not 
 been repeated in the testatrix's final will, as Mrs. Varick 
 had fiercely resented Miss Pigchalke's violent disapproval 
 of her marriage. 
 
 Panton had been amazed to hear of Varick's quite un- 
 called-for generosity, and he had exclaimed, "Well, that 
 does take the cake ! I wish I'd known this before. Still, 
 I don't think Miss Pigchalke will forget in a hurry what 
 I said to her. I warned her that some of the things she 
 said, or half-said, were libellous, and that it might end 
 very badly for her if she said them again. She took the 
 line that I, being a doctor, was privileged but I assured 
 her that I was nothing of the kind! Still, she's a veno- 
 mous old woman, and if I were you I'd write her a 
 solicitor's letter." 
 
 That little conversation, which had taken place more 
 than six months ago, came back, word for word, to Var- 
 ick's mind, as he walked sharply up and down the plat- 
 form, trying to get warm. It was strange how Miss Pig- 
 chalke and her vigorous, unpleasant personality haunted 
 him. But he had found in his passbook only this morn- 
 ing that she had already cashed his last cheque for fifty 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP . 121 
 
 pounds. Surely she couldn't, in decency, go on with this 
 half -insane kind of persecution if she accepted what was, 
 after all, his free and generous gift every six months? 
 
 The train came steaming in, and only three passengers 
 got out. But among them was the man for whom Varick 
 was waiting. And, at the sight of the lithe, alert figure 
 of Dr. Panton, and of the one-time familiar form of 
 good old Span, Varick's troubled, uncomfortable thoughts 
 took wings to themselves and flew away. 
 
 The two men's hands met in a firm, friendly grasp. 
 "This is jolly," said the younger of the two, as they 
 walked out to the big car. "And I'm ever so much obliged 
 to you for letting me bring Span !" 
 
 And Panton did think it very jolly of Varick to have 
 left his guests, and come all this way through the cold 
 to meet him. It was good of him, too, to have let him 
 bring his dog. 
 
 As they drove slowly through the picturesque High 
 Street of the famous town, Varick's friend looked about 
 him with keen interest and enjoyment. He had an eager, 
 intelligent, alert mind, and he had never been to New- 
 market before. 
 
 Once they got clear of the town, and were speeding 
 through the pleasant, typically English country lanes 
 which give Suffolk a peculiarly soothing charm Span (who 
 was a rather large liver-and-white spaniel) , lying stretched 
 out sedately at their feet, Varick suddenly asked care- 
 lessly : "No more news of my enemy, Miss Pigchalke, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 Panton turned to him quickly in the rushing wind: 
 "Yes, something has happened. But I didn't think it 
 
122 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 worth writing to you about. An extraordinary advertise- 
 ment appeared about a month ago in one of the popular 
 Sunday papers, and Mrs. Bilton you remember the 
 woman ?" 
 
 Varick shook his head. He looked exceedingly dis- 
 turbed and annoyed, and the man now sitting by his side 
 suddenly regretted that he had said anything about that 
 absurd advertisement. 
 
 "Mrs. Bilton was the woman whom I recommended to 
 you as a charwoman, soon after you were settled down at 
 Redsands." 
 
 "Yes, I remember the name now. What of her?" 
 
 "She came up to see me one evening about a month ago, 
 and she brought the paper the News of the World I 
 think it was with her." 
 
 "Yes," said Varick shortly. "Yes go on, Panton. 
 What was in the advertisement?" 
 
 "The advertisement simply asked for information about 
 you and your doings, past and present, and offered a re- 
 ward for any information of importance. It was very 
 oddly worded. What I should call an amateur advertise- 
 ment. Mrs. Bilton came up to consult me as to whether 
 she should write in answer to it. Of course I strongly 
 advised her to do nothing of the kind. As a matter of 
 fact" Dr. Panton chuckled "I have reason to believe 
 she did write, but I need hardly say that, as far as she 
 was concerned, nothing came of it !" 
 
 "I wish you could remember exactly how the advertise- 
 ment was worded?" said Varick. It was dear that he 
 felt very much disturbed. 
 
 "I'm sorry I didn't keep a copy of it ; all I can tell you 
 is that it asked for information concerning the past life 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 1231 
 
 and career of Lionel Varick, sometime of Redsands and 
 Chichester." 
 
 "Chichester ?" repeated Varick mechanically. 
 
 The name of the Sussex cathedral town held for him 
 many painful, sordid memories. His first wife, the 
 woman whose very existence he believed unknown to 
 everyone who now knew him, with the exception of 
 Blanche Farrow, had been a Chichester woman. It was 
 there that they had lived in poverty and angry misery 
 during the last few weeks of her life. 
 
 "Yes, that's all I remember but I've put it more clearly 
 than the advertisement did." 
 
 "What an extraordinary thing!" muttered Varick. 
 
 "I don't know that it's so very extraordinary. It was 
 that woman Pigchalke's doing, obviously. As I told you 
 the last time we met, I felt that she would stick at nothing 
 to annoy you. She's quite convinced that you're an out- 
 and-out villain." 
 
 Dr. Panton laughed. He really couldn't help it. Var- 
 ick was such a thoroughly good fellow! 
 
 "I wonder," said Varick hesitatingly, "if I could get a 
 copy of that Sunday paper? I feel that it's the sort of 
 thing that ought to be stopped don't you, Panton?" 
 
 "I'm quite sure it didn't appear again in the same paper, 
 or I should have heard of it again. That one particular 
 copy did end by going the whole round of Redsands. I 
 went on hearing about it for, I should think, well, right 
 up to when I left home." 
 
 A rush of blind, unreasoning rage was shaking Varick. 
 Curse the woman ! What a brute she must be, to take his 
 money, and go on annoying him in this way. "I wish 
 
124 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 you'd written and told me about it when it happened," he 
 said sombrely. 
 
 The doctor looked at him, distressed. "I'm sorry I 
 didn't, if you feel like that about it !" he exclaimed. "But 
 you were so put out when I told you of the woman's 
 having come to see me, and it was so obvious that the 
 advertisement came from her, that I thought I'd say noth- 
 ing about it. I wouldn't have told you now, only that 
 you mentioned her." 
 
 Varick saw that his friend was very much disturbed. 
 He made a determined effort over himself. "Never 
 mind/' he said, trying to smile. "After all, it's of no 
 real consequence." 
 
 "I don't know if you'll find it any consolation to be told 
 that that sort of thing is by no means uncommon," said 
 Panton reflectively. "People, especially women, whose 
 minds for any reason have become just a little unhinged, 
 often take that sort of strange dislike to another human 
 being. Sometimes for no reason at all. Every medical 
 man would tell you of half-a-dozen such cases within his 
 own knowledge. Fortunately, such half -insane people 
 generally choose a noted man the Prime Minister, for 
 instance, or whoever happens to be very much in the 
 public eye. If the persecution becomes quite intolerable 
 there's a police-court case or the individual is quite prop- 
 erly certified as insane." 
 
 And then something peculiar and untoward happened 
 to Lionel Varick. The words rose to his lips : "That 
 horrible woman haunts me haunts me ! I can never- get 
 rid of her she seems always there " 
 
 Had he uttered those words aloud, or had he not ? He 
 glanced sharply round, and then, with relief, he made up 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 125 
 
 his mind that he had not uttered them, for the man sitting 
 by his side was looking straight before him, with a pleased, 
 interested expression on his plain, intelligent face. 
 
 Varick pulled himself together. This would never do ! 
 He asked himself, with a touch of acute anxiety, whether 
 it were possible that he was losing his nerve? He had 
 always possessed the valuable human gift of being able 
 to control, absolutely, his secret feelings and his emotions. 
 
 "Did I tell you that Miss Brabazon is here?" he asked 
 carelessly. 
 
 And the other exclaimed : "I'm glad of that. I formed 
 a tremendously high opinion of that girl last year. By 
 the way, I was surprised to hear, quite by accident, the 
 other day, that she's a lot of money. I don't quite know 
 why, but I formed the impression that it was her friend 
 who was well-to-do didn't you?" 
 
 "I never thought about it," said Varick indifferently. 
 "By the way, Miss Brabazon's old aunt, a certain Miss 
 Burnaby, is here too. It's rather a quiet party, Panton; 
 I hope you won't be bored." 
 
 "I'm never bored. Who else have you got staying 
 with you?" 
 
 Varick ran over the list of his guests, only leaving out 
 one, and, after a scarcely perceptible pause, he remedied 
 the omission. 
 
 "Then there's Miss Farrow's niece ; she was called after 
 her aunt, so her real name is Blanche " 
 
 " 'Known to her friends as Bubbles,' " quoted Dr. Pan- 
 ton, with a cynical inflection in his voice. 
 
 "How do you know that ?" exclaimed Varick. 
 
 "Because there was a portrait of the young lady in the 
 Sketch last week. She seems to be a kind of feminine 
 
126 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 edition of the Admirable Crichton. She can act, dance, 
 cook and she's famed as a medium in the psychic world 
 whatever that may mean !" 
 
 "I see you know all about her," observed Varick, 
 smiling. 
 
 But though he was smiling at his friend, his inner 
 thoughts were grim thoughts. He was secretly repeating 
 to himself : "Chichester, Chichester? How can she have 
 got hold of Chichester ?" 
 
 Dr. Panton went on : "I'm glad I'm going to meet this 
 Miss Bubbles I've never met that particular type of 
 young lady before. Though, of course, it's not, as some 
 people believe, a new type. There have always been girls 
 of that sort in the civilized world." 
 
 "It's quite true that the most curious thing about Bub- 
 bles," said Varick thoughtfully, "is a kind of thought- 
 reading gift. I fancy she must have inherited it from an 
 Indian ancestress, for her great-great-grandfather rescued 
 a begum on her way to be burnt on her husband's funeral 
 pyre. He ultimately married her, and though she never 
 came to England, Bubbles' father, a fool called Hugh 
 Dunster, who's lost what little money he ever had, is one 
 of her descendants. There's something just a little Ori- 
 ental and strange in Bubbles' appearance." 
 
 "This is 'curiouser and curiouser,' as Alice in Wonder- 
 land used to say!" exclaimed Panton. "Do you think I 
 could persuade Miss Bubbles to give an exhibition of her 
 psychic gifts?" 
 
 The speaker uttered the word "psychic" with a very 
 satiric inflection in his pleasant voice. 
 
 Varick smiled rather wryly. "You're quite likely to 
 have an exhibition of them without asking for it! The 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP . 127 
 
 first evening that my guests were here she held what I 
 believe they call a seance, and as a result Miss Brabazon's 
 uncle, old Burnaby, not only bolted from the room, but 
 left Wyndfell Hall the next morning." 
 
 "What an extraordinary thing!" 
 
 "Yes," said Varick, "it was an extraordinary thing. 
 I confess I can't explain Bubbles' gift at all. At this 
 seance of hers she described quite accurately long dead 
 men and women " 
 
 "Are you sure of that, Varick?" 
 
 "Of course I am, for she described my own mother." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "Being a very intelligent, quick girl, she naturally helps 
 herself out as best she can," went on Varick reflectively. 
 
 "Then you're inclined to think her thought-reading is 
 more or less a fraud?" cried Panton triumphantly. 
 
 "Less, rather than more, for she's convinced me that 
 she sees into the minds of her subjects and builds up a 
 kind of of " 
 
 "Description?" suggested the doctor. 
 
 "More than that I was going to say figure. She de- 
 scribed, as if she saw them standing there before her, 
 people of whom she'd never even heard and the descrip- 
 tions were absolutely exact. But if you don't mind, 
 Panton " 
 
 He hesitated, and the other said, "Yes, Varick?" 
 
 "Well, I'd rather you leave all that sort of thing alone, 
 as far as Bubbles Dunster is concerned. Both Miss Far- 
 row and I are very anxious that she shouldn't be up to 
 any more of her tricks while she's here. People don't 
 half like it, you see. Even I didn't like it." 
 
 Somehow it was a comfort to Varick to talk freely 
 
128 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 about Bubbles to a stranger Bubbles had got on his 
 nerves. He would have given a good deal to persuade 
 her to leave Wyndfell Hall; but he didn't know how to 
 set about it. In a sense she was the soul of the party. 
 The others all liked her. Yet he, himself, felt a sort of 
 growing repugnance to her which he would have been 
 hard put to it to explain. Indeed, the only way he 
 could explain it and he had thought a good deal about 
 it the last few days was that she undoubtedly possessed 
 an uncanny power of starting into life images which had 
 lain long dormant in his brain. 
 
 For one thing but that, of course, might not be en- 
 tirely Bubbles' fault Milly, his poor wife, had become 
 again terribly real to him. It was almost as if he felt 
 her to be alive, say, in the next room lying, as she had 
 been wont to lie, listening for his footsteps, in the little 
 watering place where they had spent the last few weeks 
 of her life. 
 
 He could not but put down that unpleasant, sinister 
 phenomenon to the presence of Bubbles, for he had been 
 at Wyndfell Hall all the summer, and though the place 
 had been Milly's birthplace where, too, she had 
 spent her melancholy, dull girlhood no thought of her 
 had ever come to disturb his pleasure in the delightful, 
 perfect house and its enchanting garden. Of course, now 
 and again some neighbour with whom he had made ac- 
 quaintance would say a word to him indicating what d 
 strange, solitary life the Faunceys, father and daughter, 
 had led in their beautiful home, and how glad the speaker 
 was that "poor Milly" had had a little happiness before 
 she died. To these remarks he, Varick, would of course 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 129 
 
 answer appropriately, with that touch of sad reminis- 
 cence which carries with it no real regret or sorrow. 
 
 But during the last few days it had been otherwise. 
 He could not get Milly out of his mind, and he had come 
 to feel that if this peculiar sensation continued, he would 
 not be able to bring himself to stay on at Wyndfell Hall 
 after the break-up of his present party. 
 
 This feeling of his dead wife's presence had first be- 
 come intolerably vivid in the village school-room during 
 the children's Christmas Day treat. At one time so the 
 clergyman had told him Milly had had a sewing-class for 
 the village girls in that very room ; but the class had not 
 been a success, and she had given it up after a few weeks. 
 That was her only association with the ugly little building, 
 and yet and yet, once he had got well into his speech, 
 he had suddenly felt her to be there and it was not the 
 gentle, fretful, adoring Milly he had known, but a Pres- 
 ence which seemed filled with an awful, clear-eyed knowl- 
 edge of certain secret facts which his reasoning faculties 
 assured him were only known to his own innermost self. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 A TURN in the road brought them within sight of 
 Wyndfell Hall, and "What a singular, wonder- 
 ful-looking old place!" exclaimed Dr. Panton. 
 
 And, indeed, there was something mysteriously alluring 
 in the long, gabled building standing almost, as it were, 
 on an island, among the high trees which formed a screen 
 to the house on the north and east sides. It was something 
 solemn, something appealing like a melodious, plaintive 
 voice from the long-distant past, out of that Old Country 
 which was the England of six hundred years ago. 
 
 "You've no idea how beautiful this place is in summer, 
 Panton and yet the spring is almost more perfect. You 
 must come again then, and make a really good, long 
 stay." 
 
 "Span will enjoy a swim in the moat even now," said 
 the doctor, smiling. They were going slowly over the 
 narrow brick bridge, and so up to the deep-eaved porch. 
 
 A butler and footman appeared as if by magic, and 
 the sound of laughing voices floated from behind them. 
 There was a pleasant stir of life and bustle about the de- 
 lightful old house, or so it seemed to the guest. 
 
 He jumped out of the car behind his host, then he 
 turned round. "Span !" he called out. "Span !" 
 
 But the dog was still lying on the floor of the car, and 
 he made no movement, still less any attempt to jump 
 down. 
 
 130 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP ,131 
 
 "What an extraordinary thing!'* exclaimed Span's 
 master. "Come down, Span! Come down at once!" 
 
 He waited a moment ; then he went forward and tried 
 to drag the dog out. But Span resisted with all his 
 might. He was a big spaniel, and Panton, from where 
 he stood, had no purchase on him. "There's something 
 wrong with him," he said with concern. "Wait a mo- 
 ment, Varick if you don't mind." 
 
 He got up into the car again and patted Span's head. 
 The dog turned his head slowly, and licked his master's 
 hand. 
 
 "Now, Span, jump out! There's a good dog!" 
 
 But Span never moved. 
 
 At last Panton managed to half -shove, half -tumble the 
 dog out. "I've only known him behave like this once 
 before," he muttered, "and that was with a poor mad 
 woman whom I was once compelled to put up in my house 
 for two or three days. He simply wouldn't go near her! 
 He behaved just as he's doing now." 
 
 Span was lying on the ground before them, inert, 
 almost as if dead. But his eyes, his troubled, frightened 
 eyes, were very much alive. 
 
 Varick went off into the house for a moment. He 
 had never liked dogs ; and this ugly brute's behaviour, so 
 he told himself, annoyed him very much. 
 
 Span got up and shook himself, almost as if he had been 
 asleep. 
 
 Panton bent down. "Span," he said warningly, "be 
 a good dog and behave yourself ! Remember what hap- 
 pened to you after the poor lunatic lady went away." 
 
 And Span looked up with that peculiar, thoughtful look 
 
132 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 which dogs sometimes have of understanding everything 
 which is being said to them. 
 
 Span had been beaten a very rare experience for 
 him after the mad lady had left the doctor's house. But 
 whether he understood or not the exact reference to that 
 odious episode in his happy past life, there was no doubt 
 that Span did understand that his master regarded him 
 as being in disgrace ; and it was a very subdued dog that 
 walked sedately into the hall where most of the party 
 were gathered together ready to greet the new-comer. 
 
 Miss Farrow was particularly cordial, and so was Helen 
 Brabazon. She and Dr. Panton had become real friends 
 during Mrs. Varick's illness, and they had been at one in 
 their affection for, and admiration of, Lionel Varick dur- 
 ing that piteous time. To the doctor (though he would 
 not have admitted it, even to himself, for the world) there 
 had been something very repugnant about the dying 
 woman. Though still young in years, she might have 
 been any age ; and she was so fretful and so selfish, hardly 
 allowing her husband out of her sight, while utterly de- 
 voted to him, of course, in her queer, egoistic way and to 
 Miss Brabazon, her kind new friend. The doctor had 
 soon realized that it was the pity which is akin to love 
 which had made Helen become so attached to poor Milly 
 Varick intense pity for the unhappy soul who was going 
 to lose her new-found happiness. Milly's pathetic cry: 
 "I never had a girl friend before. You can't think how 
 happy it makes me !" had touched Helen to the heart. 
 
 Standing there, in that noble old room hung with some 
 beautiful tapestries forming a perfect background to the 
 life and colour which was now filling it, Panton was sur- 
 prised to find how vividly those memories of last autumn 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 133 
 
 came surging back to him. It must be owing to this 
 meeting with Miss Brabazon this reunion with the two 
 people with whom he had gone through an experience 
 which, though it so often befalls a kind and sympathetic 
 doctor, yet never loses its poignancy that he was think- 
 ing now so intensely of poor Mrs. Varick. 
 
 It was Helen Brabazon who had introduced the new- 
 comer to Miss Farrow, for Varick had disappeared, and 
 soon Dr. Panton was looking round him with interest and 
 curiosity. Most of the people whom he knew to be 
 staying at Wyndfell Hall were present, but not the girl 
 his friend had described not the girl, that is, whose por- 
 trait he had seen in the Sketch. Just as he was telling 
 himself this, a door opened, and two people came through 
 together a tall, fair, smiling young man, and a quaint, 
 slender figure, looking like a child rather than like a 
 woman, whose pale, yet vivid little face was framed in 
 thick, dark brown, bobbed hair, and whose large, bright 
 eyes gleamed mischievously. 
 
 Bubbles had chosen to put on this afternoon a long, 
 rose-red knitted jumper over a yellow skirt, and she looked 
 as if she had stepped out from some ancient Spanish re- 
 ligious procession. 
 
 "Bubbles/' called out her aunt, "this is Dr. Panton. 
 Come and be introduced to him." 
 
 Then something very odd happened. Varick joined 
 his new guest at the very same moment that the girl 
 came forward with hand outstretched and a polite word 
 of welcome on her lips ; but, before she could speak, Span, 
 who had been behaving with so sedate a dignity that the 
 people present were scarcely conscious of his existence, 
 gave a sudden loud and horrible howl. 
 
i 3 4 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 His master, disregarding Bubbles' outstretched hand, 
 seized the dog by the collar, rushed with him to the door 
 giving on to the porch, and thrust him out into the cold 
 and darkness. 
 
 Span remained quite quiet when on the wrong side of 
 the door. There might have been no dog there. 
 
 "I'm so sorry," said Panton apologetically, as he came 
 again towards the tea-table. "I can't think what's the 
 matter with the poor brute. He's almost perfect man- 
 ners as a rule." 
 
 He turned to Miss Brabazon, who laughingly ex- 
 claimed: "Yes, indeed! Span's such an old friend of 
 mine that I feel quite hurt. I thought he would be sure 
 to take some notice of me; but I didn't even know he 
 was there till he set up that awful, unearthly howl." 
 
 "I think it's very cruel to have turned the dog out into 
 the cold," Bubbles said in her quick, decided way. 
 "There's nothing about dogs I don't know, Doctor 
 Doctor " 
 
 " Panton," he said shortly. 
 
 "Oh, Panton? May I go out to him, Dr. Panton?" 
 There was a challenge in her tone. 
 
 Panton answered stiffly: "By all means. But Span's 
 not always pleasant with complete strangers ; and he pre- 
 fers men, Miss Dunster." 
 
 "I think he'll be all right with me." 
 
 Bubbles went and opened the door, and a moment later 
 they heard her low, throaty Voice talking caressingly to 
 the dog. Span whined, but in a gentle, happy way. 
 
 "He's quite good now," she called out triumphantly. 
 
 Varick turned to the company : "Will you forgive me 
 for a moment?" he said. "I forgot to say a word to my 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 135 
 
 chauffeur about our plans for to-morrow." And as he 
 went through one door, Bubbles, followed by the now 
 good and repentant Span, appeared through another. 
 
 "He's a darling," she cried enthusiastically. "One 
 of the nicest dogs I've ever met!" 
 
 She sat down, and endeared herself further to Span by 
 giving him a large piece of cake. 
 
 And Dr. Panton, looking at the charming group for 
 the lithe, dark-haired girl in her brilliant, quaint garment, 
 and the dog over which she was bending, made a delight- 
 ful group 1 told himself grudgingly that Miss Bubbles was 
 curiously attractive : far more attractive-looking than he 
 would have thought her to be by the portrait published in 
 the Sketch though even that had been sufficiently ar- 
 resting to remain in his mind for two or three days. Was 
 there really something Eastern about her appearance? 
 He would never have thought it but for those few words 
 of Varick's. Many English girls have that clear olive 
 complexion, those large, shadowy dark eyes, which yet 
 can light up into daring, fun, and mischief. 
 
 But, alas! the story of Span even this early chapter 
 of the story of his stay at Wyndfell Hall had not a 
 happy ending. As Varick came forward again among his 
 guests, Span once more set up that sharp, uncanny howl, 
 and this time he cringed and shivered, as well as howled. 
 
 Span's master, with an angry exclamation, again 
 dragged the now resisting dog across to the door which led 
 into the outer porch. After he had shut the door, and 
 Span's howls were heard subsiding, he turned to the 
 others apologetically. "I'm really awfully sorry," he ex- 
 claimed. "If this sort of thing goes on I'll have to send 
 him home to-morrow." 
 
136 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Poor Panton looked thoroughly put out and annoyed. 
 But Bubbles came to his rescue Bubbles and the young 
 man whom the doctor now knew to be Bill Donnington. 
 
 "Come on, Bill ! We'll take him round to the kitchen. 
 You don't mind, do you?" 
 
 Span's owner shook his head; devoted though he was 
 to his dog, he felt he could well do without Span for a 
 while. 
 
 After Bubbles and Donnington had disappeared to- 
 gether, their eager voices could be heard from the paved 
 court-yard which connected two of the wings of Wynd- 
 fell Hall. Span was barking now, barking eagerly, hap- 
 pily, confidently. And when the two young people reap- 
 peared they were both laughing. 
 
 "He's taken to the cook tremendously," said Bubbles. 
 "And he's even made friends and that's much more 
 wonderful with the cat. He went straight up to her 
 and smelt her, and she seemed to be quite pleased with the 
 attention." 
 
 She turned to Dr. Panton: "I'll go out presently and 
 see how he's getting on," she added. 
 
 He looked at her gratefully. She really was a nice 
 girl ! He had thought that she would be one of those dis- 
 agreeable, forward, self-sufficing, modern young women, 
 who are absorbed only in themselves, and in the effect 
 they produce on other people. But Miss Bubbles was 
 not in the least like that. 
 
 Helen Brabazon whispered, smiling: "Isn't Bubbles 
 Dunster a dear, Dr. Panton? She's not like anyone I 
 ever met before and that makes her all the nicer, doesn't 
 
 it?;" 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 ABOUT an hour after Dr. Panton's arrival, the whole 
 of the party was more or less scattered through the 
 delightful old house, with the exception of Lionel Varick, 
 who had gone off to the village by himself. 
 
 But the four ladies finally gathered together in the hall 
 to put in the time between tea and dinner. 
 
 Miss Burnaby was soon nodding over a book close to 
 the fire, while Helen Brabazon and Blanche Farrow had 
 brought down their work. This consisted, as far as 
 Helen was concerned, of a complicated baby's garment 
 destined for the Queen's Needlework Guild. Blanche, 
 sitting close to Helen, was bending over a frame con- 
 taining the intricate commencement of a fruit and bird 
 petit-point picture, which, when finished, she intended 
 should form a banner screen for this very room. 
 
 Three seven-branched silver candlesticks had now been 
 lighted, and formed pools of soft radiance in the gather- 
 ing dusk. 
 
 After wandering about restlessly for a while, Bubbles 
 ensconced herself far away from the others, in the old 
 carved wood confessional, which had seemed in Don- 
 nington's eyes so incongruous and unsuitable an object to 
 form part of the furnishings of a living room. 
 
 To Blanche Farrow, the confessional, notwithstanding 
 the beauty of the carving, suggested an irreverent simile 
 that of a telephone-box. She told herself that only 
 
 i37 
 
138 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Bubbles would have chosen such an uncomfortable rest- 
 ing-place. 
 
 But when stepping up into what had once been the 
 priest's narrow seat, Bubbles called out that it was de- 
 lightfully nice and quiet in there, as well as dark for 
 there still hung over the aperture through which she had 
 just passed a curtain of green silk brocade embroidered 
 with pale passion flowers. 
 
 There followed a period of absolute silence and quietude 
 in the room. Then the door leading from the outside 
 porch opened, and Varick came in. "I hope I'm not in- 
 truding," he exclaimed in his full, resonant voice; and 
 the ladies, with the exception of Bubbles, who remained 
 invisible, looked up and eagerly welcomed him. 
 
 During the last few days he had made a real conquest 
 of Miss Burnaby, who, with the one startling exception of 
 the emotion betrayed by her at the seance, secretly struck 
 both him and Blanche Farrow as the most commonplace 
 human being with whom either had ever come in con- 
 tact. 
 
 "I'm quite warm/' he said, in answer to the old lady's 
 invitation to come up to the fire. "I had to go down to 
 the village Post Office to see why the London papers 
 hadn't arrived. But I've got them all now." 
 
 He came over to where she was sitting and handed 
 her a picture paper. Then he retreated, far from the fire, 
 close to a table which was equi-distant from the confes- 
 sional and the door giving access to the staircase hall. 
 Bringing forward a deep, comfortable chair out of the 
 shadows, he sat down, and opening one of the news- 
 papers he had brought in, began to read it with close at- 
 tention. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP /i 39 
 
 On the table at his elbow, there now stood what looked 
 to Helen's eyes like a bouquet of light. But this only 
 made the soft darkness which filled the further side of the 
 great room seem more intense to those sitting near the 
 fireplace. 
 
 They were all pleasantly tired after the doings of the 
 day ; and soon Blanche's quick ears caught a faint, regu- 
 lar sound issuing from the far-off confessional. Bub- 
 bles, so much was clear, had fallen asleep. 
 
 And then, not for the first time in the last few days, 
 the aunt began considering within herself the problem of 
 her niece. Blanche had begun to like Donnington with 
 a cordiality of liking which surprised herself. His selfless 
 love for the girl touched her more than she had thought 
 it possible for anything now to touch her worldly heart. 
 And whereas she would naturally have considered a mar- 
 riage between the penniless Donnington and brilliant, 
 clever, popular Bubbles as being out of the question, 
 she was beginning to feel that such a marriage might be, 
 nay, almost certainly was, the only thing likely to ensure 
 for Bubbles a reasonably happy and normal life. Blanche 
 Farrow knew enough of human nature to realize that 
 the kind of love Bill Donnington felt for her strange little 
 niece was of a high and rare quality. It was very unlike 
 the usual selfish, acquisitive love of a man for a maid. 
 It was more like the tender, watching, tireless devotion 
 certain mothers have for their children it was infinitely 
 protecting, infinitely forgiving, infinitely understanding. 
 
 Blanche sighed, a long, deep sigh, as she told herself 
 sadly that no one had ever loved her like that not even 
 her old friend Mark Gifford. He had loved her long; in 
 fact he rarely saw her, even now, without asking her to 
 
140 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 marry him. Also he had been, in his own priggish way, a 
 very, very good and useful friend to her. But still, 
 Blanche knew, deep in her heart, that Mark Gifford dis- 
 approved of her, that he often misunderstood her, that 
 he was ashamed of the strength of the attraction which 
 made him still wish to make her his wife, and which had 
 kept him a bachelor. As long as this old friend had 
 known her he had always written her a Christmas letter. 
 The letter had not come this Christmas, and she had 
 missed it. But Mark had no idea of where she was, and 
 and after all, perhaps his faithful friendship had 
 waned at last from lack of real response. 
 
 And then, while thinking these rather melancholy', 
 desultory thoughts, Blanche Farrow suddenly experienced 
 a very peculiar sensation. It was that of finding herself 
 as if impelled to look up from the embroidery-frame over 
 which she was bending. 
 
 She did look up; and for a moment her heart that 
 heart which the way of her life had so atrophied and 
 hardened seemed to stop beating, for just behind Lionel 
 Varick, whose head was still bent over his newspaper with 
 a complete air of unconcern, interest, and ease stood, 
 or appeared to stand, two shadowy figures. 
 
 She shut her eyes; then opened them again wide. 
 The figures were still there, and they had grown clearer, 
 more definite, especially the countenance of each of the 
 two wraith-like women who stood, like sentinels, one on 
 either side of the seated man. 
 
 Blanche gazed at them fixedly for what seemed to her 
 an eternity of time. But even while, in a way, she could 
 not deny the evidence of her senses, she was telling her- 
 self that she was really seeing nothing that this extra- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 141 
 
 ordinary experience was but another exercise of Bubbles' 
 uncanny power. 
 
 And as she, literally not believing the evidence of her 
 senses, stared at the two immobile figures, her eyes be- 
 came focussed on the face of the woman standing to 
 Varick's right. There was a coarse beauty in the mask- 
 like-looking countenance, but it was a beauty now instinct 
 with a kind of stark ferocity and rage. 
 
 At last she slowly concentrated her gaze on the other 
 luminous figure. Though swathed from neck to heel in 
 what Blanche told herself, with a peculiar feeling of 
 horror, were old-fashioned grave-clothes, the second 
 woman yet looked more real, more alive, than the other. 
 Her face, if deadly pale, was less mask-like, and the small, 
 dark eyes gleamed, while the large, ill-shaped mouth 
 seemed to be quivering. 
 
 And then, all at once, the form to Varick's right began 
 to dissolve to melt, as it were, into the green-grey and 
 blue tapestry which hung across the farther wall of the 
 hall. 
 
 But while this curious phenomenon took place, the 
 woman swathed in her grave-clothes remained quite clear- 
 ly visible. . . . 
 
 Suddenly Helen Brabazon started to her feet; she ut- 
 tered a loud and terrible cry and at that same moment 
 Blanche saw the more living and sinister of the two ap- 
 parations also become disintegrated, and quickly dis- 
 solve into nothingness. 
 
 Lionel Varick leapt from his chair. His face changed 
 from a placid gravity to one of surprise and distress. 
 "What is it?" he cried, coming forward. "What is it, 
 Miss Brabazon Helen?" 
 
142 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 The girl whom he addressed fell back into her chair. 
 She covered her face with her hands. Twice she opened 
 her lips and tried to speak in vain. At last she gasped 
 out, "It's all right now. I'll be better in a minute." 
 
 "But what happened?" exclaimed Varick. "Did any- 
 thing happen?" 
 
 "I think I must have gone to sleep without knowing 
 it for I've had a terrible, terrible nightmare !" 
 
 Miss Burnaby got up slowly, deliberately, from her 
 chair near the fire. She also came up to her niece. 
 
 "You were working up to the very moment you cried 
 out," she said positively. "I had turned round and I 
 was watching you when suddenly you jumped up and 
 gave that dreadful cry." 
 
 "Do tell us what frightened you," said Varick solicit- 
 ously. 
 
 "Please don't ask me what I saw or thought I saw; 
 I would rather not tell you," Helen said in a low voice. 
 
 "But of course you must tell us!" Miss Burnaby 
 roused herself, and spoke with a good deal of authority. 
 "If you are not well you ought to see a doctor, my dear 
 child." 
 
 Helen burst into bitter sobs. "I thought I saw Milly, 
 Mr. Varick poor, poor Milly ! She locked exactly as she 
 looked when I last saw her, in her coffin, excepting that 
 her eyes were open. She was standing just behind you 
 and oh, I shall never, never forget her look! It was a 
 terrible, terrible look a look of hatred. Yet I cared for 
 her so much! You know I did all that was possible for 
 one woman to do for another during those few weeks 
 that I knew her?" 
 
 Lionel Varick's face turned a curious, .greyly pallid 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 143 
 
 tint. It was as if all the natural colour was drained out 
 of it. 
 
 "Where's Bubbles?" he asked, in a scarcely audible 
 voice. 
 
 For a moment no one answered him, and then Blanche 
 said quietly : "Bubbles is over there, in the confessional, 
 asleep." 
 
 He turned and walked quickly over to the carved, box- 
 like confessional, and drew aside the green-embroidered 
 curtain. 
 
 Yes, the girl lay there asleep or was she only pretend- 
 ing? Her breast rose and fell, her eyes were closed. 
 
 Varick took hold of her arm with no gentle gesture, 
 and she awoke with a cry of surprise and pain. "What 
 is it? Don't do that!" she said in a hoarse and sleepy 
 tone. 
 
 And then, on seeing who it was, she smiled wryly. "Is 
 it forbidden to get in here?" she asked, still speaking in 
 a heavy, dull way. "I didn't know it was," and stum- 
 blingly she stepped down out of the confessional. 
 
 Varick scowled at her, and made no answer to her 
 question. Together they walked over to where the other 
 three were standing Miss Burnaby still gazing at her 
 niece, with an annoyed, frightened expression on her 
 face. 
 
 As Bubbles and Varick came up to her, Helen got up 
 from the chair in which she had sunk back. She held a 
 handkerchief to her face, and was making a great effort 
 to regain her self-control and composure. 
 
 "Please forgive me, Mr. Varick. I oughtn't to have 
 told you what I thought I saw for I'm sure it was only 
 
144 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 a dream, a horrible, startling dream. But but you made 
 me tell you, didn't you?" 
 
 She looked up into his pale, convulsed face with an 
 anguished expression. "I think I'll go upstairs now, and 
 rest a little before I dress for dinner," and then she 
 walked across the room, and out of the door, with a steady 
 step. 
 
 Bubbles stretched out her arms with a weary gesture. 
 "What's all this fuss about?" she asked. "I feel abso- 
 lutely done done done! Not at all as if I'd had a 
 good long sleep. I wonder how long I -was asleep?" 
 
 "You didn't sleep very long," said her aunt dryly 
 "not half-an-hour in all. I should advise you, Bubbles, 
 to follow Miss Brabazon's example go up and have a 
 good rest, before getting ready for dinner." 
 
 Bubbles turned away. She walked very slowly, with 
 dragging steps, to the door; and a moment later Miss 
 Burnaby also left the room. 
 
 Varick walked over towards the fireplace. He held 
 out his hands to the flames he felt cold, shiveringly cold. 
 
 He turned, as he had so often done in the past, for 
 comfort to the woman now standing silent by his side, 
 and who knew at once so much and so little of his real 
 life. 
 
 "I wonder what really happened?" he muttered. "It 
 was a most extraordinary thing! I've seldom met any- 
 one so little hysterical or fanciful as as is Miss Braba- 
 zon." And then : "Why, Blanche," he exclaimed, star- 
 tled, "what's the matter?" 
 
 There was a look on her face he had never seen there 
 before a very troubled, questioning, perplexed look. 
 
 "I saw something too, Lionel," she said in a low voice; 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "I I saw more than Helen Brabazon admits to having 
 seen." 
 
 "You saw something?" he echoed incredulously, 
 
 "Yes, and were it not that I am an older woman, and 
 have more self-control than your young friend, I should 
 have cried out too." 
 
 "What did you see?" he asked slowly. 
 
 "What I think I saw for I am quite convinced that I 
 saw nothing at all, and that the extraordinary phenomenon 
 or vision, call it what you will, was only another of 
 
 Bubbles' tricks what I saw " She stopped dead 
 
 She found it extraordinarily difficult to go on. 
 
 "Yes?" he said sharply. "Please tell me, Blanche. 
 What is it you saw, or thought you saw ?" 
 
 "I thought I saw two women standing just behind your 
 chair," she said deliberately. 
 
 Varick made a violent movement so violent that it 
 knocked over a rather solid little oak stool which always 
 stood before the fire. "I beg your pardon !" he exclaimed ; 
 and, stooping, picked the stool up again. Then, "What 
 sort of women?" he asked; and though he tried to speak 
 lightly, he failed, and knew he failed. 
 
 "It isn't very easy to describe them," she said reluc- 
 tantly. "The one was a stout young woman, with a gipsy 
 type of face that's the best way I can describe it. But 
 the other " 
 
 She waited a full minute, but Varick did not, could 
 not, speak. 
 
 She went on: 
 
 "The other, Lionel, looked more like well, like what 
 a ghost is supposed to look like! She was swathed in 
 white from head to foot, and she appeared I don't quite 
 
146 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 know how to describe it as if at once alive and dead. 
 Her face looked dead, but her eyes looked alive." 
 
 "Had you ever seen either of these women before I 
 mean in life?" 
 
 He had turned away from her, and was staring into the 
 fire. 
 
 "No; I've never seen anyone in the least like either of 
 them." 
 
 Varick moved a few steps, and then, as if hardly know- 
 ing what he was doing, he began turning over the leaves 
 of the picture paper Miss Burnaby had been reading. 
 
 "Do you suppose that Helen Brabazon saw exactly 
 what you saw?" he asked at last. 
 
 "No, I'm sure she didn't; for the younger-looking 
 woman had already disappeared, it was as if she faded 
 into nothingness, before Helen Brabazon called out," 
 there was a hesitating, dubious tone in Blanche's voice. 
 "But of course we can't tell what exactly she did see. She 
 may have seen something someone quite different from 
 what I thought I saw." 
 
 Varick began staring into the fire again, and Blanche 
 felt intolerably nervous and uncomfortable. "I think, 
 Lionel, that I must speak to Bubbles very seriously !" she 
 said at last. "I haven't a doubt now that she really has 
 got some uncanny power a power of stirring the imagi- 
 nation of making those about her think they see visions." 
 
 "But why should she have chosen that you should see 
 such such a vision as that?" he asked, almost in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Ah, there you have me ! I can't imagine what should 
 prompt her to do such a cruel, unseemly thing." 
 
 "You think it's quite impossible that Bubbles personated 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 147 
 
 either of these these" he hesitated for a word, and 
 Blanche answered his only half -asked question very de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 "If there'd been only one figure there, I confess I 
 should have thought that Bubbles had in some way dressed 
 up, and 'worked it.' You know how fond she used to be 
 of practical jokes? But there were two forms absolute- 
 ly distinct the one from the other." 
 
 Lionel Varick took a turn up and down the long room. 
 Then he came and stood opposite to her, and she was 
 shocked at the change in his face. He looked as if he 
 had been through some terrible physical experience. 
 
 "I wish you'd arrange for her to go away, at once 
 I mean, to-morrow. Forgive me for saying such a thing, 
 but I feel that nothing will go right while Bubbles is at 
 Wyndfell Hall," he exclaimed. 
 
 Blanche looked what he had never seen her look before 
 offended. "I don't think I can get her away to-morrow, 
 Lionel. She's nowhere to go to. After all, she gave up 
 a delightful party to come here and help us out." 
 
 "Very well," he said hastily. "Perhaps I ought not to 
 have suggested anything so inhospitable" he tried to 
 smile. "But I will ask you to do me one favour?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, still speaking coldly. "What is it?" 
 
 "I want you to ask Miss Brabazon and her aunt to 
 keep what happened this afternoon absolutely to them- 
 selves." 
 
 "Of course I will !" She was relieved. "I don't think 
 either of them is in the least likely to be even tempted to 
 speak of it." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BUT even while Varick and Blanche Farrow were 
 arranging together that this disturbing and mys- 
 terious occurrence should remain secret, Helen Brabazon 
 was actually engaged in telling one who was still a 
 stranger to her the story of her amazing experience. 
 
 Perhaps this was owing to the fact that the door of 
 the hall had scarcely shut behind her when she met Sir 
 Lyon Dilsford face to face. 
 
 Almost involuntarily he exclaimed, with a good deal 
 of real concern in his voice: "Is anything the matter? 
 I hope you haven't had bad news ?" 
 
 She said, "Oh, no," and shook her head ; but the tears 
 welled up again into her eyes. 
 
 When an attractive girl who generally shows remark- 
 able powers of quietude and self-control breaks down, 
 and proves herself a very woman after all, the average 
 man is generally touched, and more than a little moved. 
 Sir Lyon felt oddly affected by Helen's evident distress, 
 and an ardent desire to console and to help her rose in- 
 stinctively in his mind. 
 
 "Come into the study!" he exclaimed in a low voice. 
 "And tell me if there's anything I can do to help you?" 
 
 She obeyed him, and, as he followed her in, he shut 
 the door. 
 
 She sat down, and for a while he stood before her, 
 gazing sympathetically into her flushed, tear-stained face. 
 
 148 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 149 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll think it so absurd," she said falter- 
 ingly. "Even I can hardly believe now that what hap- 
 pened did happen!" 
 
 "Don't tell me if you'd rather not," he said suddenly; 
 a very disagreeable suspicion entering his mind. 
 
 Was it within the bounds of possibility that James 
 Tapster had tried to to kiss her? Sir Lyon had a 
 great prejudice against the poor millionaire, but he in- 
 stantly rejected the idea. If such a thing had indeed hap- 
 pened to her, Helen Brabazon was the last girl ever to 
 offer to tell anyone, least of all a man. 
 
 Helen all at once felt that it would be a comfort to 
 confide her strange, terrifying experience to this kind 
 new friend. 
 
 "I'd rather tell you, I think." 
 
 She waited a moment, and then came out with a 
 bald statement of what had happened. "I was sitting 
 knitting, when something seemed to force me to look up 
 and I saw, or I thought I saw, the spirit of a dear, dead 
 friend." 
 
 Sir Lyon uttered an exclamation of extreme astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes, I know it was only my imagination," Helen 
 went on in a low, troubled voice. "But it gave me a 
 most fearful shock, and I feel that, however long I live, 
 I shall never forget it!" 
 
 "I wish you would tell me a little more about it," he 
 said persuasively. "I don't ask out of idle curiosity. I 
 was very much impressed by what happened on the first 
 night of our visit here I mean at the seance." 
 
 "So was I," she said reluctantly. "But, of course, 
 this had nothing to do with with anything of that sort. 
 
150 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 In fact, Bubbles (as she has asked me to call her) was 
 sitting, asleep, I think, in that curious old carved confes- 
 sional box. My aunt and Mr. Varick were reading Mr. 
 Varick had just come up from the village with this morn- 
 ing's London papers; Miss Farrow was doing her em- 
 broidery, and I'd just been counting some stitches in my 
 knitting, when I looked up and saw " 
 
 She stopped, as if not able to go on. 
 
 "Was what you saw, what you took to be an appari- 
 tion, close to the confessional?" asked Sir Lyon abruptly. 
 
 "No, not so very close still, not very far away. It 
 she seemed to be standing behind Mr. Varick, a little 
 to his left, on the door side." 
 
 "I suppose you would rather not tell me who it was 
 you saw?" 
 
 Sir Lyon thought he knew, but he wished to feel sure. 
 
 "I don't see why I shouldn't tell you," yet she hesi- 
 tated. "It was poor Milly, Sir Lyon I mean Mrs. Lionel 
 Varick. She and I became great friends during the weeks 
 preceding her death. She even told me that, apart from 
 her husband, she had never cared for anyone as she grew 
 to care for me. And yet oh, Sir Lyon, what was so 
 very, very terrible just now, was that I felt her looking 
 at me with a kind of hatred in her dead face," and, as 
 she uttered these last words, an expression of deep pain 
 came over Helen Brabazon's countenance. 
 
 Sir Lyon then asked a rather curious question : "How 
 was the apparition clothed?" 
 
 "In her shroud. A woman in Redsands made it. I 
 saw the woman about it perhaps that impressed it on 
 my mind," her mouth quivered. "The figure standing 
 there was exactly like Milly dead, excepting that her eyes 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 151 
 
 seemed alive, and that there was that dreadful look of 
 anger on her face." 
 
 "How long did the vision last?" 
 
 "Oh, not a whole minute altogether! When I first 
 saw it I got up, and without knowing what I was doing, 
 I screamed ; and then she, Milly, seemed to fade away to 
 melt into the air. 
 
 "Did anyone else see anything?" asked Sir Lyon 
 eagerly. 
 
 "No, I don't think so. In fact, I'm quite sure not. 
 My aunt was sitting with her back to Mr. Varick." 
 
 There was a pause. And then Helen asked : "You 
 don't believe that the dead can appear to the living do 
 you, Sir Lyon?" 
 
 "I've never been able quite to make up my mind," he 
 said slowly. "But I do believe, absolutely, in what is now 
 called materialization. I must believe in it, because I've 
 witnessed the phenomena a number of times myself. But, 
 of course, always under a most carefully prepared set of 
 conditions. I wish you'd tell me," he went on, "exactly 
 how the figure struck you? Can you describe to me in 
 greater detail the appearance of what seemed to be the 
 spirit of your friend?" 
 
 Helen did not quite understand what he meant, but she 
 answered obediently : "It's very difficult to describe more 
 exactly what I did see. As I told you just now, the 
 eyes alone seemed to be really alive in the pale, waxen- 
 looking face, and I thought the mouth quivered." 
 
 "I know," he interjected quickly. 
 
 "But the rest of her poor, thin, emaciated looking 
 body seemed to be so stiff and still, swathed in the long, 
 white grave-clothes and I can't express to you the sort 
 
152 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 of growing horror of it all! I knew it was only a few 
 moments, yet it seemed like hours of time. I felt as if I 
 must call out and indeed I did. But before I could go on 
 to utter her name, Miss Farrow spoke to me, my aunt 
 got up from her chair, and Mr. Varick rushed forward! 
 Of course it all happened in much less time than it takes 
 to tell." 
 
 She looked at iiim earnestly. What a kind, dependable 
 face he had ! 
 
 "Have you, Sir Lyon, any explanation to suggest?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I don't suppose/' he said slowly, "that you would ac- 
 cept my explanation, Miss Brabazon." 
 
 "I think I would," she said simply. "After what haj> 
 pened that first night I feel that anything is possible. 
 I am sure my dear father's spirit was there." 
 
 "I am inclined to think so too. But as to this instance 
 I am not so sure that what you saw was your dead 
 friend. Unless " 
 
 "Unless?" repeated Helen questioningly. 
 
 "You told me that during her lifetime you were on the 
 best terms of friendship with this poor lady, and yet 
 that on her dead face there was a look of hatred? How 
 do you account for that?" 
 
 He looked questioningly, penetratingly, into the girl's 
 distressed face. 
 
 Sir Lyon had always prided himself on his self-com- 
 mand and perfect self-control, and yet he would have 
 given almost anything for a really honest answer to this 
 question. 
 
 And poor Helen did give him an honest answer hon- 
 est, that is, from her own simple-hearted point of view. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 153 
 
 "I can't account for it !" she exclaimed. "But I am sure 
 it was there. I felt the hatred coming out from her to- 
 wards me. And oh, Sir Lyon, it was horrible!" 
 
 "Try and think it was not Mrs. Varick's spirit/' he said 
 impressively. "Try and tell yourself that it was either a 
 dream, a waking phantom of your brain, or or " 
 
 "Or what ?" asked Helen eagerly. 
 
 But there are thoughts, questions, suspicions that no 
 human being willingly puts into words. 
 
 During the last few days Sir Lyon had become con- 
 vinced that Lionel Varick had resolved in his powerful, 
 unscrupulous mind to make Helen Brabazon his wife. 
 It was in vain that he argued with himself that the ques- 
 tion of Miss Brabazon's future concerned him not at all. 
 He found himself again and again, when watching those 
 two, giving a great deal of uneasy thought to the matter. 
 Now and again he would remind himself that Varick had 
 been no greater an adventurer than many a man who, 
 when utterly impecunious, has married an heiress amid 
 the hearty approval and acclamation of most of the people 
 about them. And Varick could not now be regarded as 
 impecunious; he was a man of substance, though no 
 doubt even his present income would seem as nothing com- 
 pared with the Brabazon fortune. 
 
 Sir Lyon was ashamed of his growing distaste, even 
 dislike, of his courteous host. It was as if in the last 
 few days a pit had been dug between them. It was not 
 pleasant to him to be accepting the hospitality of a man 
 whom he was growing to dislike and suspect more and 
 more every day. And yet though he could have made a 
 
i 5 4 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 hundred excuses to leave Wyndfell Hall, he stayed on, 
 refusing to inquire too closely into the reason. 
 
 At times he tried to persuade himself that he was keenly 
 interested in the problem presented by Bubbles Dunster. 
 The girl was beyond question a most rare and exceptional 
 medium. At one time he had made a close study of 
 psychic phenomena; and though he had come to certain 
 conclusions which had led to his entirely giving up the 
 practices which had once seemed to him the only thing 
 worth living for, he was still sufficiently interested in the 
 subject to feel that Bubbles' powers were well worth 
 watching. 
 
 Sir Lyon would have given much to have been pres- 
 ent at what, if Helen's account were correct, had been 
 an extraordinary example of what is called materializa- 
 tion. 
 
 Had this terrible vision of Mrs. Varick been an ema- 
 nation of Helen Brabazon's own brain some subcon- 
 scious knowledge that she, Helen, was now the object 
 of Varick's pursuit? Or was this woman, whom they 
 all called "poor Milly," an unquiet spirit, wandering about 
 full of jealous, cruel thoughts, even with regard to the 
 two who had evidently been so selflessly devoted to her 
 her girl friend and her husband? 
 
 And then, suddenly a queer feeling of intense relief 
 swept over him. Whether a sentient being or not had 
 appeared to Helen Brabazon, there could be no doubt 
 that what had just happened would make the course of 
 Varick's wooing more arduous. He was ashamed to find 
 that this conviction made him suddenly feel oddly light- 
 hearted almost, so he told himself, a young man again ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AS he walked into his bedroom, which was pleasantly 
 warm for there was a good fire, and the curtains 
 across the three windows were closely drawn Dr. Pan- 
 ton told himself that he was indeed beginning the New 
 Year very well. 
 
 Half-an-hour ago the whole party, with the exception 
 of Miss Burnaby, who had gone to bed at her usual 
 time, had stood outside the front door under the starry 
 sky while the many clocks of Wyndfell Hall rang out the 
 twelve strokes which said farewell to the Old Year, and 
 brought the New Year in. Then they had all crowded 
 back again into the hall, and, hand in hand, sung "Auld 
 Lang Syne." 
 
 As everyone had shaken hands and wished each other 
 a Happy New Year, many and sincere had been the good 
 wishes felt and expressed. Even James Tapster had 
 looked genial and happy for once. He was beginning to 
 feel as if he would, after all, throw the handkerchief to 
 Bubbles (his own secret, graceful paraphrase for making 
 an offer of marriage). But as yet Dr. Panton knew 
 nothing of this little under-current in the broad stream 
 which seemed to be flowing so pleasantly before him. 
 Had he done so, he would have been startled and dis- 
 tressed, for he had already, with a shrewd medical man's 
 judgment, "sized up" his fellow guest, and found him 
 very much wanting. 
 
156 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Thus not knowing or divining anything of the various 
 human under-currents, save, perhaps, that he guessed Don- 
 nington to be in love with Bubbles, Dr. Panton went off 
 to bed in a very cheerful and contented state of mind. So 
 contented was he that as, with leisurely fingers, he lit the 
 candles on his dressing-table, he incidentally told himself 
 that Wyndfell Hall was the only house in which he had 
 ever stayed which, lacking any other luminant but lamps 
 and candles, yet had amply enough of both! 
 
 Lighting a pipe for he didn't feel in the least sleepy 
 he drew forward a deep, comfortable armchair close to 
 the fire, and took up a book. But soon he put it down 
 again, and, staring at the dancing flames, his mind dwelt 
 with retrospective pleasure on the last few hours. 
 
 Seated between Helen Brabazon and Bubbles Dunster, 
 he had thoroughly enjoyed the delicious New Year's Eve 
 dinner composed by Varick's chef. Miss Brabazon had 
 admitted to having a headache this evening, and she cer- 
 tainly looked very far from well less well than he had 
 thought her to be when they had first seen one another 
 again, after so long an absence, this afternoon. 
 
 And yet, as is sometimes the case, a look of languor 
 suited her ; and he thought she had grown decidedly better- 
 looking in the last year. At Redsands Miss Brabazon had 
 been a little too buxom, a little too self-possessed, also, 
 for his taste. And yet and yet how wonderfully good 
 she had been to poor Mrs. Varick! With what tender 
 patience had she put up with the invalid's querulous bad 
 temper, never even mentioning it to him, the doctor, who 
 so often received painful confidences of the kind from 
 those who were far nearer and dearer to a dying patient 
 than Helen had been to querulous Milly Varick. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 1-57 
 
 As for Miss Bubbles, he felt it would be easy to lose 
 one's heart to that strange, queer young creature. They 
 had made real friends over Span. And, apropos of Span, 
 Dr. Panton frowned to himself. He feared that the dog 
 was going to be the one blot on this delightful visit. Span 
 had been very, very badly behaved setting up that un- 
 earthly howl whenever his master brought him in con- 
 tact with the rest of the party. Yet he was quite good 
 in the servants' hall. "It is clear that, like so many 
 cleverer people than himself, Span likes low company," 
 Bubbles had whispered mischievously to Span's master. 
 "I daresay they're all very much nicer than we are, if 
 we only knew it !" she had gone on, but Dr. Panton had 
 shaken his head. He had no great liking for the modern 
 domestic servant. He was one of the many people who 
 consider that the good old type of serving-man and wait- 
 ing-woman has disappeared for ever. To-night, remem- 
 bering Bubbles' words, he gave a careless, rueful thought 
 to the question of how Varick, who was always generous 
 about money, must be cheated "rooked" was the expres- 
 sion the doctor used in his own mind by these job 
 servants who were here, so his host told him, just for 
 the one month. Still, they were all fulfilling their part 
 of their contract very well, especially the chef! Every- 
 thing seemed to go on oiled wheels at Wyndfell Hall. But 
 this might be owing to clever Miss Farrow, for Varick had 
 told him that Miss Farrow was acting as hostess to the 
 party. 
 
 Panton didn't much like that composed, clever-looking 
 lady. She made him feel a little shy, a little young a sen- 
 sation he didn't very often experience nowadays! She 
 treated him with a courtesy which, if elaborate, was also 
 
158 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 distant. It was odd to think that Miss Farrow was the 
 unconventional, friendly Bubbles Dunster's aunt. 
 
 Sir Lyon Dilsford, on the other hand, he liked very 
 much. He smiled a queer little smile as he thought of 
 this new acquaintance. He had looked up in the middle 
 of dinner, and caught a rather curious look on Sir Lyon's 
 face. It was a thoughtful, considering, almost tender look. 
 Was Sir Lyon attracted to Helen Brabazon ? Well, Miss 
 Brabazon, with her vast wealth, and Sir Lyon, with his 
 fine old name, and agreeable, polished personality, would 
 seem well matched, according to a worldly point of view. 
 But Panton told himself that he would far prefer Lionel 
 Varick were he a young woman. But he feared there was 
 no hope of such a chance coming Miss Brabazon's way. 
 Varick' s heart his big, sensitive heart was buried in 
 the grave of his wife. . . . 
 
 How strange to think that "poor Milly" for so had 
 even her doctor come to call her in his own mind had 
 been born and brought up in this delightful old house ! She 
 had once spoken to him of her unhappy girlhood, coupling 
 it with an expression of gratitude to her husband for 
 having so changed her life. 
 
 "Poor Milly" was very present to Dr. Panton to- 
 night. He, who had hardly given her a thought during 
 the last twelve months, found himself dwelling on her to 
 an almost uncanny extent. He even recalled some un- 
 usual features of her illness which had puzzled and wor- 
 ried him greatly. He dismissed the recollection of certain 
 of her symptoms with an effort. There is no truer saying 
 at any rate from a doctor's point of view than "Let 
 the dead bury their dead." He had done his very best 
 for Mrs. Varick, lavished on her everything that skill 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 159 
 
 and kindness could do, and she had been extraordinarily 
 blessed, not only in her devoted husband, but in that sud- 
 den, unexpected friendship with another woman and 
 with such a good, conscientious, sweet-tempered young 
 woman as was Helen Brabazon. . . . 
 
 Half-past one struck on the landing outside his room, 
 and Dr. Panton got up from the comfortable easy chair; 
 time to be going to bed, yet he still felt quite wide awake. 
 
 He walked over to the window nearest to the fire- 
 place, and drew back the heavy, silk-brocaded curtain. It 
 was a wonderful night, with a promise, he thought, of 
 fine weather though one of the men who had stood out- 
 side with him had predicted snow. What a curious, eerie 
 place this old Suffolk house was! Probably the landscape 
 had scarcely changed at all in the last five hundred years. 
 Below he could see gleaming water. . . . 
 
 He let fall the curtain, and, blowing out the candles, got 
 slowly, luxuriously, into the vast, comfortable four-post 
 bed. 
 
 As he composed himself to sleep, broken, disconnected 
 images floated through his brain. Bill Donnington 
 what a nice boy! And yet not exactly, he felt, in sym- 
 pathy with any of the people there. He wondered why 
 Bill Donnington had come to spend Christmas at Wynd- 
 fell Hall. Then he remembered and smiled in the fitful 
 firelight. What a pity there wasn't some nice, simple, 
 gentle girl for young Donnington ! That was the sort of 
 girl he, Panton, would have chosen for him. Miss Bub- 
 bles, so much was clear, rather despised the poor lad. 
 She had implied as much in her clever, teasing, funny way, 
 more than once. 
 
 And the thought of Bubbles unexpectedly brought up 
 
160 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 another image that of James Tapster. Of the little 
 party gathered together at Wyndfell Hall, Tapster was the 
 one whom the doctor felt he really didn't like. He couldn't 
 imagine why Varick had asked that disagreeable fellow 
 here! 
 
 While the men were still in the dining-room, and 
 Varick had gone out for a moment to look for some very 
 special, new kind of cigarette which had come down from 
 London a day or two before, Tapster had spoken very 
 disagreeably of the richness of the French chefs cooking. 
 He had seemed to think it an outrage that something of 
 a special, very plain, nature had not been provided for 
 him every day, and he had hinted that perhaps the doctor 
 could suggest some antidote to all this richness! There 
 was another reason, so Panton's sleepy mind told him, 
 why he didn't like his sulky, plain fellow-guest. It be- 
 came suddenly, unexpectedly, clear to him that Tapster 
 was much taken with Miss Bubbles. The man had hardly 
 taken his eyes off her during the whole of dinner, and it 
 had been a disagreeable, appraising look as if he couldn't 
 quite make up his mind what she was worth! He told 
 himself, while remembering that look, that Tapster was 
 the kind of man who is always hesitating, always absorbed 
 in some woman, and yet always afraid to try his luck 
 in the hope that if he waits, he may do better next time! 
 Miss Bubbles was a hundred times too good for such a 
 fellow, however rich the fellow might be. ... 
 
 Gradually Panton felt himself slipping off into that 
 pleasant condition which immediately precedes a dream- 
 less, healthful sleep. 
 
 And then, all at once, his senses became keenly alert, 
 for a curious sound became audible in the darkening 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 161 
 
 room. It was without doubt a sound created by some 
 industrious mouse, or perhaps though that idea was a 
 less pleasant one by a greedy rat. Swish, swish swish 
 just like the rustling of a lady's silk dress ! 
 
 Panton stretched out his right arm, and knocked the 
 wall behind him sharply twice or thrice, and the sound 
 stopped suddenly. But after a few minutes, just as he 
 was dropping off, it began again. But it no longer startled 
 him, as it had done the first time, and soon he was fast 
 asleep. 
 
 It might have been a moment, it might have been an 
 hour, later, when there came a sudden, urgent knocking at 
 his door. He sat up in bed. 
 
 "Come in," he called out, now wide awake. 
 
 The door opened slowly and there came through it a 
 curious-looking figure. It was James Tapster, arrayed in 
 a wonderful dressing-gown made of Persian shawls, and 
 edged with fur. He held a candlestick in his hand, and 
 the candle threw up a flickering light on his pallid, 
 alarmed-looking face. 
 
 "Dr. Panton," he whispered, "I wish you'd come out 
 here a moment." 
 
 And the doctor, cursing his bad luck, and feeling what 
 he very seldom felt, thoroughly angry, said ungraciously : 
 "What is the matter? Can't you tell me without my 
 getting out of bed?" 
 
 Last night's excellent dinner, which couldn't have hurt 
 any healthy man, had evidently upset the unhealthy mil- 
 lionaire. 
 
 "Can't you hear?" whispered Tapster. His teeth were 
 chattering; he certainly looked very ill. 
 
 "Hear! Hear what?" 
 
1 62 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Tapster held up his hand. And then, yes, the man 
 sitting up in the big four-post bed did hear some very- 
 curious noises. It was as if furniture was being thrown 
 violently about, and as if crockery was being smashed 
 but a very, very long way off. 
 
 This was certainly most extraordinary ! He had done 
 Tapster an injustice. 
 
 He jumped out of bed. "Wait a minute!' 5 he ex- 
 claimed. 'Til get my dressing-gown, and we'll go and 
 see what it's all about. What extraordinary sounds! 
 Where on earth do they come from?" 
 
 "They come from the servants' quarters," said Tapster. 
 
 There came a sudden silence, and then an awful crash. 
 
 "How long have these noises gone on ?" asked Panton. 
 
 He had put on his dressing-gown, and was now looking 
 for his slippers. 
 
 "Oh, for a long time." 
 
 Tapster's hand was trembling, partly from excitement, 
 partly from fear. "How d'you account for it ?" he asked. 
 
 "One of the servants has gone mad drunk," replied 
 Panton briefly. "That's what it is without a doubt! 
 We'd better go down and see what can be done." 
 
 And then, as there came the distant sounds of breaking 
 glass, he exclaimed: "I wonder everyone hasn't woken 
 up!" 
 
 "There is a heavy padded door between that part of the 
 house and this. My room is on the other side, over what 
 they call the school-room. I left the padded door open 
 just now when I came through in fact I fastened it 
 back." 
 
 "That wasn't a very clever thing to do!" 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 163 
 
 The doctor did not speak pleasantly, but Tapster took 
 no offence. 
 
 "I I wanted someone to hear," he said humbly; "I felt 
 so shut off through there." 
 
 "Still, there's no use in waking everybody else up," said 
 Panton, in a businesslike tone. 
 
 He didn't look forward to the job which he thought lay 
 before him; but, of course, it wasn't the first time he had 
 been called in to help calm a man who had become violent 
 under the influence of drink. "Go on," he said curtly. 
 "Show me the way ! I suppose there's a back staircase by 
 which we can go down ?" 
 
 He followed his guide along the broad corridor to a 
 heavy green baize door. Stooping, he undid the hook 
 which fastened the door back. It swung to, and, as it 
 did so, there came a sudden, complete cessation of the 
 noise. 
 
 "Hullo!" he said to himself, "that's odd." 
 
 The two men waited for what seemed to Panton a long 
 time, but in reality it was less than five minutes. 
 
 "Would you like to come into my room for a few 
 moments? I wish you would," said Mr. Tapster plain- 
 tively. 
 
 Unwillingly the doctor walked through into what was 
 certainly a very pleasant, indeed a luxurious room. It 
 was furnished in a more modern way than the other rooms 
 at Wyndfell Hall. "There's a bath-room off this room. 
 That's why Varick, who's a good-natured chap, gave it 
 me. He knows I have a great fear of catching a chill," 
 whispered Mr. Tapster. 
 
 "We'd better go down," said the doctor at last. 
 
1 64 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "D'you think so? But the noise has stopped, and, 
 after all, it is no business of ours." 
 
 Dr. Panton did not tell the other what was really in his 
 mind. This was that the man who had now become so 
 curiously quiet might unwittingly have done a mischief 
 to himself. All he said was : "I have a feeling that I 
 ought to go down, at any rate." 
 
 The words had hardly left his lips before the noises 
 began again, and, of course, from where the two men 
 were now, they sounded far louder than they had done 
 from the doctor's bed-room. Heavy furniture was un- 
 doubtedly being thrown about, and again there came those 
 curious crashes, as if plates and dishes were being dashed 
 against the wall and broken there in a thousand pieces. 
 
 "I say, this won't do !" Quickly he went towards the 
 door, and as he reached the corridor he saw the swing 
 door between the two parts of the house open, and Miss 
 Farrow came through, looking her well-bred, composed 
 self, and wearing, incidentally, a short, neat, becoming 
 dressing-gown. 
 
 "I can't think what's happening!" she exclaimed. She 
 looked from the one man to the other. "What can be 
 happening downstairs?" 
 
 As Panton made no answer, Mr. Tapster replied for 
 them both: "The doctor thinks one of the servants got 
 drunk last night." 
 
 "Yes, that must be it, of course. I'll go down and see 
 who it is," she said composedly. 
 
 But Dr. Panton broke in authoritatively : "No, indeed, 
 Miss Farrow! If it's what I think it is, the fellow will 
 probably be violent. You'd better let me go down alone 
 and deal with him." 
 
I 
 
 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP ,165 
 
 There had come again that extraordinary, sudden still- 
 ness. 
 
 "I think I'd rather come down with you," she said 
 coolly. 
 
 All three started going down the narrow, steep wooden 
 staircase which connected that portion of the upper floor 
 with the many rambling offices of the old house. 
 
 Tapster and Blanche Farrow each held a candle, but 
 Dr. Panton led the way ; and soon they were treading the 
 whitewashed passages, even their slippered feet making, in 
 the now absolute stillness, what sounded like loud thuds 
 on the stone floor. 
 
 "Listen!" said Blanche suddenly. 
 
 They all stood still, and there came a strange fluttering 
 sound. It was as if a bird had got in through a window, 
 and was trying to find a way out. 
 
 "D'you know the way to the kitchen? I think that 
 the man must be in the kitchen, or probably the pantry," 
 whispered the doctor to his hostess. 
 
 "I think it's this way." 
 
 Miss Farrow led them down a short passage to the 
 right, and cautiously opened a door which led into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 And then they all three uttered exclamations of amaze- 
 ment and of horror. Holding her candle high in her hand, 
 their hostess was now lighting up a scene of extraordinary 
 and of widespread disorder. 
 
 It was as if a tornado had whirled through the vast, 
 low-ceilinged kitchen. Heavy tables lay on their sides and 
 upside down, their legs in the air. Most of the crockery 
 fortunately, so Blanche said to herself, kitchen crockery 
 off the big dresser lay smashed in large and small pieces 
 
1 66 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 here, there, and everywhere. A large copper preserving- 
 pan lay grotesquely sprawling on the well-scrubbed centre 
 table, which was the one thing which had not been moved 
 probably because of its great weight. And yet and 
 yet it had been moved for it was all askew ! The man 
 who did that, if, indeed, one man could alone have done 
 all this mischief, must have been very, very strong a 
 Hercules ! 
 
 The doctor took the candle from Miss Farrow's hand 
 and walked in among the debris. "He must have gone 
 through that door," he muttered. 
 
 Leaving her to be joined by the timorous James Tap- 
 ster, he went boldly on across the big kitchen, and through 
 a door which gave into what appeared to be a scullery. 
 But here everything was in perfect order. 
 
 "Where can the man have gone ?" he asked himself in 
 astonishment. 
 
 Before him there rose a vision of the respectable old 
 butler, and of the two tall, well-matched, but not physical-, 
 ly strong-looking footmen. This must be the work of 
 some man he had not yet seen? Of course there must be 
 many men employed about such a place as was Wyndfell 
 Hall. 
 
 He retraced his steps. "I think you and Mr. Tap- 
 ster had better go upstairs again, and leave me to this," 
 he said decidedly. "I'll have a thorough hunt through the 
 place, and it'll probaby take some time. Perhaps the 
 man's taken refuge in the pantry. By the way, where do 
 the servants sleep?" 
 
 "Oddly enough, they're none of them sleeping in the 
 house," said Blanche quietly. "They're down at what are 
 called 'the cottages.' You may have seen a row of pretty 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP .167 
 
 little buildings not very far from the gate giving on to 
 the high road? Those cottages belong to Mr. Varick. 
 They're quite comfortable, and we thought it best to put 
 all the servants together there. When I say all the 
 servants" she corrected herself quickly "the ladies' 
 maids and Mr. Tapster's valet all sleep in the house. But 
 Mr. Varick and I agreed that it would be better to put 
 the whole of the temporary staff down together in the 
 cottages." 
 
 "In that case I think it's very probable that the man, 
 when he realized the mischief he'd done, bolted out of 
 doors. However, I may as well have a look round." 
 
 'Til come with you," said Blanche decidedly. She 
 turned to Mr. Tapster : "I think you'd better go upstairs, 
 and try and finish your night more comfortably." 
 
 She spoke quite graciously. Blanche was the one of 
 the party who really tolerated Mr. Tapster Blanche and 
 Mr. Tapster's host. 
 
 "All right, I think I will. Though I feel rather a brute 
 at leaving you to do the dirty work," he muttered. 
 
 He set off down the passage ; and then, a few moments 
 later, he had to call out and ask Miss Farrow to show him 
 the way he had lost himself ! 
 
 It took a long time to search through the big commons 
 of the ancient dwelling. There were innumerable little 
 rooms now converted into store cupboards, larders, and 
 so on. But everything was in perfect order the kitchen 
 alone being in that, as yet, inexplicable condition of wreck- 
 age. 
 
 But at last their barren quest was ended, and they came 
 up the narrow staircase on much more cordial and kindly 
 terms with one another than either would have thought 
 
1 68 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 possible some hours before. Then the doctor, with an 
 "Allow me," pushed in front of Miss Farrow in order to 
 open wide the heavy padded door. "I wonder that you 
 heard anything through this !" he exclaimed. 
 
 She answered, "I was awakened by Mr. Tapster talk- 
 ing to you. Then, of course, I heard those appalling 
 noises for he had left the padded door open. I got 
 up and, opening my own door, listened, after you had 
 both gone through. When there came that final awful 
 crash I felt I must go and see what had happened !" 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 QBIRITS? What absolute bosh! Miss Bubbles has 
 J3 been pulling your leg, Varick. And yet one would 
 like to know who has been at the bottom of it all 
 whether, as you say the butler evidently believes, it is the 
 chef himself, or, as the chef told you, one of the under- 
 servants. In any case, I hope no one will suppose that 
 that sort of thing can be owing to a supernatural agency." 
 
 "Yet John Wesley did so suppose when that sort of 
 thing happened in the Wesley household," came in the 
 quiet voice of Sir Lyon. 
 
 The three men Dr. Panton, Sir Lyon, and Lionel 
 Varick were taking a walk along the high road. It was 
 only eleven o'clock, but it seemed much later than that to 
 two of them, for all the morning they had been busy. An 
 hour of it had been taken up with a very close examina- 
 tion of the servants, especially of the respectable butler 
 and of the French chef. They had both professed them- 
 selves, together and separately, as entirely unable to ac- 
 count for what had happened in the night. But still, it 
 had been clear to the three who had taken part in the 
 examination Blanche Farrow, Varick, and the doctor 
 that the butler believed the chef to be responsible. "It's 
 that Frenchman; they're tricky kind of fellows, ma'am/' 
 the man had said in a confidential aside. And, though the 
 chef was less willing to speak, it was equally clear that he, 
 on his side, put it down to one of the under-servants. 
 
 169 
 
i yo FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Then, quite at the end of the interrogation, they had 
 all been startled by not only the chef, but the butler also, 
 suddenly admitting that something very like what hap- 
 pened last night had happened twice before ! But on the 
 former occasions, though everything in the kitchen had 
 been moved, including the heavy centre table, nothing 
 had been broken. Still, it had taken the chef and his 
 kitchen-maids two hours to put everything right. That 
 had happened, so was now revealed, on the very morning 
 after the party had just been gathered together. And 
 then, again, four days ago. 
 
 Miss Burnaby, who had slept through everything, ex- 
 claimed, when the happenings of the night before were 
 told her by Mr. Tapster, "The place seems bewitched! I 
 shall never forget what happened yesterday afternoon to 
 Helen." Turning to Dr. Panton, she continued: "My 
 niece actually believes that she saw a ghost yesterday !" 
 
 Helen said sharply, "I thought nothing was to be said 
 about that, Auntie." 
 
 Meanwhile the doctor stared at her, hardly believing 
 the evidence of his own ears. "You thought you saw a 
 ghost?" he said incredulously. 
 
 And Helen, turning away, answered : "I would so much 
 rather not speak about it. I don't want even to think 
 about it ever again !" 
 
 An hour later, as Panton and Sir Lyon stood outside 
 the house waiting for Varick, the doctor said a word to 
 the other man: "A most extraordinary thing happened 
 here yesterday. Miss Brabazon apparently believes she 
 saw a ghost." 
 
 "Did she tell you so herself?" asked Sir Lyon quietly. 
 
 "No, her aunt mentioned it, quite as if it was an ordi- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 171 
 
 nary incident. But I could see that it was true, for she 
 was very much upset, and said she would rather not speak 
 of it." 
 
 They had then been joined by their host, and when once 
 through the gate, the doctor's first words had proved that 
 his mind was still full of all that had happened in the 
 night. 
 
 "Surely you don't put down what happened last night 
 to a supernatural agency' 
 
 He was addressing Sir Lyon, and though he spoke 
 quite civilly, there was an under-current of sarcasm in his 
 pleasant, confident voice. 
 
 "At one time I was very deeply interested in what I 
 think one may call the whole range of psychic phe- 
 nomena," replied Sir Lyon deliberately, "and I came to 
 certain very definite conclusions " 
 
 "And what," said Varick, with a touch of real eager- 
 ness, "were those conclusions ?" 
 
 Till now he had not joined in the discussion. 
 
 "For one thing, I very soon made up my mind that a 
 great deal of what occurs at every properly conducted 
 seance can by no means be dismissed as 'all bosh/ " an- 
 swered Sir Lyon. 
 
 "Do you consider that the seance which took place the 
 first evening you were here was a properly conducted 
 seance?" asked Varick slowly. 
 
 "Yes as far as I was able to ascertain it was. I felt 
 convinced, for instance, that Laughing Water was a sep- 
 arate entity that was why I asked her to pass me by. 
 To me there is something indecent about an open seance. 
 I have always felt that very strongly ; and what happened 
 
172 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 that evening in the case of Mr. Burnaby of course con- 
 firmed my feeling." 
 
 Varick uttered under his breath an exclamation of in- 
 credulous amazement. "D'you mean that you believe 
 there was a spirit present ? It would take some time to do 
 it, but I think I could prove that it was what I took it to 
 be thought-reading of quite an exceptional quality, 
 joined to a clever piece of acting." 
 
 "You'd find it more difficult than you think to prove 
 that," said Sir Lyon quietly. "I've been to too many 
 seances to be able to accept that point of view. I feel sure 
 that Miss Bubbles was what they call 'controlled' by a 
 separate entity calling herself 'Laughing Water.' But if 
 you ask me what sort of entity, then I cannot reply." 
 
 Panton turned on him: "Then you're a spiritualist?" 
 he exclaimed. "Of course I was quite unaware of that 
 fact when I spoke just now." 
 
 There was an underlying touch of scorn in his voice. 
 
 "No, I do not call myself a spiritualist. But still yes, 
 I accept the term, if by it you mean that I believe there is 
 no natural explanation for certain of the phenomena we 
 have seen, or heard of, in the last twenty-four hours." 
 
 He purposely did not allude to what had happened be- 
 tween tea and dinner in the hall last evening, but he felt 
 certain that it was very present to Varick himself. 
 
 "I spoke just now of the curious occurrences in the 
 Wesley household," he observed, turning to the young 
 doctor. "That, of course, is the most famous case on 
 record of the sort of thing which took place in the kitchen 
 last night." 
 
 "But why," cried Varick, with a touch of excitement, 
 "why should all these things happen just now at Wyndfell 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 173 
 
 Hall ? I know, of course, the story of the haunted room. 
 But most old houses have one respectable ghost attached 
 to them. I don't mind the ghost Pegler fancies she saw 
 but, good heavens, the place now seems full of tricksy 
 spirits ! Still, it's an odd fact that none of the servants, 
 with the one exception of Miss Farrow's maid, have seen 
 anything out of the way." 
 
 Here the doctor broke in: "That's easily accounted 
 for!" he exclaimed. "I understand from Miss Farrow 
 that her maid a remarkable person without doubt has 
 held her tongue ever since she saw, or thought she saw, a 
 ghost. But if the other servants knew everything we 
 know, there'd be no holding them there'd be no ser- 
 vants!" 
 
 "Of course, I admit that in the great majority of in- 
 stances those who think they see what's commonly called 
 a ghost probably see no ghost at all," said Sir Lyon 
 thoughtfully. "They've heard that a ghost is there, and 
 therefore they think they see it." 
 
 "Then," said Varick, turning on him, "you don't be- 
 lieve Pegler did see the ghost of Dame Grizel Fauncey?" 
 
 Sir Lyon smiled. "I daresay you'll think me very 
 illogical, but in this one case I think Pegler did see what 
 is commonly called a ghost. And I'll tell you why I think 
 so." 
 
 Both men turned and looked at him fixedly, both in 
 their several ways being much surprised by his words. 
 
 "I have discovered," said Sir Lyon in a rather singular 
 tone, "that this woman Pegler saw nothing for the first 
 few days she occupied the haunted room." 
 
 Panton stared at the speaker with an astonished ex- 
 
174 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 pression. "What exactly do you mean to imply?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Sir Lyon hesitated. He was, in some of his ways, very 
 old-fashioned. It was not pleasant to him to bring a 
 lady's name into a discussion. And yet he felt impelled 
 to go on, for what had happened in the hall yesterday 
 afternoon had moved and interested him as he had not 
 thought to be interested and moved again. 
 
 "The woman saw nothing," he said, slowly and im- 
 pressively, "till Miss Dunster arrived at Wyndfell Hall. 
 I take that to mean that Miss Dunster is a very strong 
 medium." 
 
 "A medium?" repeated the doctor scoffingly. "Who 
 says medium surely says charlatan, Sir Lyon not to say 
 something worse than charlatan!" 
 
 Sir Lyon looked thoughtfully at the younger man. "I 
 admit that often mediums are charlatans or rather, they 
 begin by being mediums pure and simple, and they end 
 by being mediums qua charlatans. The temptations which 
 lie in their way are terrible, especially if, as in the ma- 
 jority of cases, they make a living by their their" he 
 hesitated "their extraordinary, as yet misunderstood, 
 and generally mishandled gift." 
 
 "Do you mean," asked Varick gravely, "that you be- 
 lieve Bubbles possesses the power of raising the dead ?" 
 
 Sir Lyon did not answer at once, but at last he said 
 firmly : "Either the dead, or some class of intermediate 
 spirits who personate the human dead. Yes, Varick, that 
 is exactly what I do mean." 
 
 All three men stopped in their now slow pacing. Dr. 
 Panton felt too much surprised to speak. 
 
 Sir Lyon went on : "I think that Miss Bubbles' arrival 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP '175 
 
 at Wyndf ell Hall made visible, and is still making visible, 
 much that would otherwise remain unseen." 
 
 As he caught the look of incredulous amazement on 
 the doctor's face, he repeated very deliberately : "That 
 is my considered opinion. As I said just now, I have had 
 a very considerable experience of psychic phenomena, and 
 I realized, during that seance which was held the first 
 evening I spent here, that this young lady possessed 
 psychic gifts of a very extraordinary nature. There is 
 no doubt at all, in my mind, that were she a professional 
 medium, her fame would by now be world-wide." 
 
 Perhaps it was the derisive, incredulous look on the 
 young medical man's face which stung him into adding : 
 "If I understand rightly" he turned to Varick "some- 
 thing very like what I should call an impromptu material- 
 ization took place in the hall yesterday is that not so?" 
 
 There was a pause. Twice Varick cleared his throat. 
 Who had broken faith and told Sir Lyon what had hap- 
 pened? He supposed it to have been Miss Burnaby. 
 "Though I was present," he said at last, "I, myself, saw 
 absolutely nothing." 
 
 "I, too, have heard something of it!" exclaimed Dr. 
 Panton, looking from one of his two now moved, embar- 
 rassed, and excited companions to the other. "And you 
 were actually present when it happened, Varick?" 
 
 As the other remained silent, he turned to Sir Lyon. 
 "What was it exactly Miss Brabazon thought she saw ?" 
 
 Sir Lyon, after a glance at Varick's pale, set face, was 
 sorry that he had mentioned the curious, painful occur- 
 rence; and, though he was a truthful man, he now told 
 a deliberate lie. "I don't know what the apparition pur- 
 ported to be," he observed. And he saw, even as he was 
 
176 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 uttering the lying words, a look of intense relief come over 
 Varick's face. "But to my mind Miss Brabazon evidently 
 saw the rare phenomenon known as a materialization. 
 Miss Bubbles was lying asleep in the confessional which 
 is almost exactly opposite the door through which one 
 enters the hall from the house side, thus the necessary 
 conditions were present." 
 
 "I wish / had been present!" exclaimed the doctor. 
 "Either I should have seen nothing, or, if I had seen 
 anything, I should have managed to convince myself that 
 what I saw was flesh and blood." 
 
 As neither of his two companions said anything in 
 answer to that observation, Panton went on, speaking 
 with more hesitation, but also with more seriousness than 
 he had yet shown: "Do I understand you to mean, Sir 
 Lyon, that you credit our young fellow-guest with super- 
 natural gifts denied to the common run of mortals?" 
 
 "I should not put it quite that way," answered Sir 
 Lyon. "But yes, I suppose I must admit that I do credit 
 Miss Bubbles with powers which no one as yet has been 
 able to analyze or explain though a great many more 
 intelligent people than has ever been the case before, are 
 trying to find a natural explanation." 
 
 "If that is so," asked the doctor, "why have you your- 
 self given up such an extraordinarily important and val- 
 uable investigation?" 
 
 "Because," said Sir Lyon, "I consider my own personal 
 investigations yielded a definite result/* 
 
 "And that result ?" 
 
 " was that what I prefer to call by the old term 
 
 of occultism makes for evil rather than for good. Also, 
 I became convinced that the practice of these arts has 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP ^77 
 
 been, so to speak, put 'out of bounds' I can think of no 
 better expression by whatever Power it be that rules our 
 strange world." 
 
 He spoke earnestly and slowly, choosing his words with 
 care. 
 
 "If your theory contains a true answer to the investi- 
 gations which are now taking place," exclaimed the doc- 
 tor, "there was a great deal to be said for those mediaeval' 
 folk who burnt sorcerers and witches! I suppose you 
 would admit that they were right in their belief that by so 
 doing they were getting rid of very dangerous, as well as 
 unpleasant, elements from out of their midst?" 
 
 The speaker looked hard at Sir Lyon. Nothing, as he 
 told himself, with some excitement, had ever astonished 
 him, or taken him so aback, as was now doing this con- 
 versation with an intelligent, cultivated man who seemed 
 to have broad and sane views on most things, but who 
 was evidently as mad as a hatter on this one subject. 
 
 And then, before Sir Lyon had perchance made up 
 his mind what to answer exactly, Varick's voice broke in : 
 "Yes," he observed, smiling a little grimly, "that's the 
 logical conclusion of your view, Dilsford. You can't get 
 out of it ! If a human being really possesses such danger- 
 ous powers, the sooner that human being is put out of the 
 way the better." 
 
 "No, no! I don't agree!" Sir Lyon spoke with more 
 energy than he had yet displayed. "Everything points to 
 the fact that those unfortunate people I mean the witches 
 and sorcerers of the Middle Ages could have been, 
 and sometimes were, exorcised." 
 
 "Exorcised?" repeated Panton. He had never heard 
 the word "exorcised" uttered aloud before, though he had, 
 
178 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 of course, come across it in books. "Do you mean driving 
 out the devil by means of a religious ceremony?" he 
 asked incredulously. 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Lyon, "I do exactly mean that. As you 
 are probably aware, there is a form of exorcism still in 
 common use. And if I were our host here, I should have 
 Wyndfell Hall exorcised, preferably by a Roman Catholic 
 priest, as soon as Miss Bubbles is safely off the premises." 
 
 The doctor again looked sharply at the speaker but 
 no, Sir Lyon evidently meant what he said; and even 
 Varick seemed to be taking the suggestion seriously ; for 
 "That's not a bad idea," he muttered. 
 
 The three men walked on in silence for a few moments. 
 
 "It would be interesting to know," observed Sir Lyon 
 suddenly, "what Miss Farrow conceives to be the truth 
 as to her niece's peculiar gifts. I fancy, from something 
 she told me the other day, that she hasn't the slightest 
 belief in psychic phenomena. I wonder if she feels the 
 same after what happened yesterday and last night?" 
 
 "I can tell you exactly what Miss Farrow thinks," in- 
 terposed Varick. "I had a word or two with her about it 
 all this morning, after we'd examined the servants in the 
 white parlour." 
 
 "What does she think," asked Sir Lyon. He had al- 
 ways been interested in Blanche Farrow, and, in a way, 
 he was fond of her. 
 
 "She thinks," said Varick, a little hesitatingly, "that 
 Bubbles, in addition to her extraordinary thought-reading 
 gift, has inherited from her Indian ancestress a power of 
 collectively hynotizing an audience of making people 
 see things that she wants them to see. That's rather awk- 
 wardly expressed, but it's the best I can do." 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 179 
 
 "I quite understand," broke in the doctor. "You mean 
 the sort of power which certain Indian fakirs undoubtedly 
 possess?" 
 
 "Yes," said Varick. "And, as I said just now Bubbles 
 has got Indian blood in her veins. One of her ancestors 
 actually did marry an Indian lady of high degree, and 
 Bubbles is descended from one of the children of that 
 marriage." 
 
 "I think that may account for the potency of her gift," 
 said Sir Lyon thoughtfully, "though, of course, many 
 Europeans have had, and now possess, these curious 
 powers." 
 
 "But though, in a sense, spiritualism is no new thing, 
 even those who believe in it admit that it has never led 
 to anything," observed Varick musingly. 
 
 "Very rarely, I admit; but still, sometimes even a 
 dream has contained a revelation of sorts. Thus it is on 
 positive record that a dream revealed the truth as to what 
 was called the Murder of the Red Barn." 
 
 "Can I take it that you do believe the dead return?" 
 asked the doctor abruptly. 
 
 "I think," said Sir Lyon deliberately, "that certain of 
 the dead desire ardently to return not always from the 
 best motives. As to whether they themselves are per- 
 mitted to come back, or whether they are able to use 
 other entities to carry out that purpose, I am still in 
 doubt." 
 
 As he spoke he saw a curious change come over Lionel 
 Varick's face. The rather set smile with which he had 
 been listening to the discussion gave way to an odd ex- 
 pression of acute unease. But at this particular moment 
 it was not Varick with whom Sir Lyon was concerned, but 
 
1 8o FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 with the frank, eager, pleasant-faced, young doctor, in 
 whose estimation, as he realized, he was falling further 
 and further down with every word he uttered. 
 
 "To tell you the honest truth," he went on, "even in 
 the days when I did little else than attend seances and 
 have sittings with noted mediums, not only in this country 
 but also on the Continent, I could never quite make up 
 my mind whether the spirit with whom I was in communi- 
 cation was really the being he or she purported to be! 
 There was a time," he spoke with some emotion, "when 
 I would have given anything certainly most willingly 
 twenty years of my life to be so absolutely convinced. 
 But there it is," he sighed, and was himself surprised at 
 the feeling of depression which came over him. "Even 
 the most earnest investigation of the kind resolves itself 
 always, after a while, into a kind of will-o'-the-wisp that 
 leads no- whither." 
 
 "Not always," exclaimed Panton sharply. "Last year 
 I had a patient who'd become insane owing to what I 
 suppose you would call an investigation into psychic phe- 
 
 nomena." 
 
 "And yet," said Sir Lyon rather sternly, "to your 
 mind, Dr. Panton, a pursuit which you admit was capable 
 of leading one unfortunate human being into insanity, is 
 'all bosh' !" 
 
 "Of course I could only go by what the poor lady's 
 friends told me," Panton said uncomfortably. "She was 
 not under my care long. But I need hardly tell you, Sir 
 Lyon, that any obsession that takes hold of a human being 
 may in time lead to insanity." 
 
 "I suppose that, according to your theory" it was now 
 Varick who was speaking, speaking rather lightly, twirl- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP ' 181 
 
 ing his stick about as he spoke "I suppose," he repeated, 
 "that, according to your theory, if Bubbles Dunster left 
 Wyndfell Hall to-morrow, the spirits would cease from 
 troubling, and we should be at rest?'* 
 
 "No, that doesn't exactly follow. I once heard of a 
 case which interested me very much. A house which had 
 never been haunted before as far as anyone knew 
 became so, following on the sojourn there of a profes- 
 sional medium, and it remained haunted for four years. 
 Then, suddenly, all the psychic phenomena stopped." 
 
 "What a strange thing," said Panton, with an. under- 
 current of irony in his voice ; "but doubtless the owner had 
 had the house exorcised, as you call it?" 
 
 "No," said Sir Lyon thoughtfully. "No, the house had 
 not been exorcised. As a matter of fact, the medium was 
 killed in a railway accident." 
 
 They walked on, and fell to talking of indifferent 
 things. But though Sir Lyon had at one time held many 
 such conversations with sceptical or interested persons, 
 this particular conversation will never be forgotten by 
 him, owing to a strange occurrence which happened in the 
 afternoon of that same day. But for two fortunate facts 
 the bravery of young Donnington, and the presence of 
 a clever medical man the pleasant comedy in which they 
 were each and all playing an attractive part would have 
 been transformed into a peculiarly painful tragedy. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHILE three members of the party had thus been 
 walking and talking, the principal subject of their 
 discussion, Bubbles Dunster, had gone through an excit- 
 ing and unpleasant experience. 
 
 When starting out for a solitary walk to give Span a 
 run, she saw, with annoyance, James Tapster following 
 her, and to her acute discomfiture he managed to stam- 
 mer out what was tantamount to an offer of marriage. 
 Though, in a sense, she had certainly tried to attract him, 
 she felt, all at once, miserably ashamed of her success. 
 So much so, indeed, that she pretended at first not to 
 understand what he meant. But at last she had to leave 
 such pretence aside, and then it was she who surprised Mr. 
 Tapster, for, "You must let me have time to think over the 
 great honour you have done me," she said quietly. "If 
 you want an answer now, it must be no." 
 
 He protested sulkily that of course he would give her 
 as much time as she wanted, and then she observed, slyly, 
 "I am sure that you yourself did not make up your 
 mind to be married all in a minute, Mr. Tapster. You 
 weighed the pros and cons very carefully, no doubt. So 
 you must give me time to do so too." 
 
 Bubbles' measured words, the feeling that she was, so 
 to speak, keeping him at arm's length, took the hapless 
 Tapster* aback, and frightened him a little. He had felt 
 so sure that once he had made up his own mind she would 
 
 182 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP -183 
 
 eagerly say "Yes!" Often, during the last few days, he 
 had told himself, with a kind of mirthless chuckle, that 
 he was not going to be "caught"; but when, at last, he 
 had made up his mind that Bubbles would make him, if 
 not an ideal, then a very suitable, wife, it seemed strange 
 indeed that she was not eager to "nail him." That she 
 was not exactly eager to do so was apparent, even to him. 
 
 Calling Span sharply to her, the girl turned round, and 
 began making her way towards the house again; finally 
 she disappeared with Span in the direction of the servants' 
 quarters. 
 
 James Tapster, walking on by himself, began to feel 
 unaccountably frightened. He asked himself, uneasily, 
 almost uttering the words aloud in his agitation, whether, 
 after all, he had been "caught" ; and whether Bubbles 
 was only "making all this fuss" in order to "bring him to 
 heel"? But two could play at that game. He toyed 
 seriously, or so he believed, with the idea of ordering his 
 motor and just "bolting"; but of course he did nothing of 
 the kind. The more Bubbles hung back, the more he 
 wanted her ; her coldness stung him into something nearer 
 ardour than he had ever felt. 
 
 And Bubbles? Bubbles felt annoyed, uneasy, even ob- 
 scurely hurt. It often happens that an offer of marriage 
 leaves a girl feeling lonely and oppressed. Deep in her 
 heart she knew she would never, never, never, become 
 Mrs. Tapster. On the other hand, she was aware that 
 there were many people in the London set among whom 
 she now lived and had her being, who would regard her 
 as mad to refuse a man who, whatever his peculiarities, 
 possessed enormous wealth. If only she could have had 
 
1 84 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 u tenth part of James Tapster's money without James 
 Tapster, what a happy woman she would have been! 
 
 As it was, Bubbles told herself fretfully that she had 
 no wish to be married. She was not yet tired of the kind 
 of idle-busy life she led; it was an amusing and stimu- 
 lating life; and though she had her dark hours, when 
 nothing seemed worth while, up to the present time there 
 had been much more sunshine than shadow. The girl 
 was sufficiently clever and sensitive to realize her good 
 fortune in the matter of Bill Donnington. Sometimes, 
 deep in her heart, she told herself that when she had drunk 
 her cup of pleasure, amusement, and excitement to the 
 dregs perhaps in ten years from now she would at last 
 reward Donnington's long faithful love and selfless de- 
 votion. And rather to her own surprise, during the half- 
 hour which followed Tapster's uninspired proposal, Bub- 
 bles thought far more of Donnington than she did of the 
 man who had just asked her to become his wife. 
 
 Sitting all alone in the hall, crouching down on a foot- 
 stool close to the fire, for somehow she felt tired tired, 
 and exhausted she made one definite resolution. She 
 would give up, as far as she was able, the practice of those 
 psychic arts which she knew those who loved her be- 
 lieved to involve a real danger to her general well-being. 
 What had happened the afternoon before had frightened 
 her. She had been entirely unconscious of the awful 
 phenomena which had taken place, and she was becoming 
 seriously alarmed at her own increasing power of piercing 
 the veil which hangs between the seen and the unseen. 
 What she had told Donnington during their talk in the 
 old darkened church had been true : she often felt herself 
 companioned by entities who boded ill, if not to herself, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 185 
 
 then to those about her. Since yesterday, also, there had 
 hung heavily over her mind a premonition that she, per- 
 sonally, was in danger. Now she told herself that per- 
 haps the peculiar, disturbing sensation had only been a 
 forerunner of James Tapster's unexpected offer of mar- 
 riage. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "What would you say to our all going out for a walk?" 
 Luncheon was just over, and Varick was facing his 
 guests. The only one missing was Dr. Panton, who had 
 gone up to his room, saying he had some work to do. 
 
 "I'm afraid it must be very wet and slushy," said 
 Blanche Farrow dubiously. It had snowed in the night, 
 and now a thaw had set in. 
 
 She had an almost catlike dislike of wet or dirt; on 
 the other hand, she was one of those people who are gen- 
 erally willing to put aside their own wishes in favour of 
 what those about them wish to do; and she saw that for 
 some reason or other Lionel Varick wanted this sugges- 
 tion of his to be carried out. 
 
 "I can take you to a place," he exclaimed, "where I 
 think we shall find it dry walking even to-day. It's a 
 kind of causeway, or embankment" he turned to Helen 
 Brabazon "which some people say was built by the 
 Romans." 
 
 "I thinl. u, walk would be very nice," she agreed. 
 
 Helen did not look like her usual cheerful, composed 
 self. The experience which had befallen her the day 
 before still haunted her mind to the exclusion of every- 
 thing else. Perhaps a good long walk would make her 
 feel a different creature, and chase that awful image of 
 Milly Varick in her grave-clothes from her brain. 
 
1 86 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 And so in the end the whole party started off, with the 
 exception of Miss Burnaby and Dr. Panton. Bubbles 
 tried hard to get out of going on what she frankly said 
 seemed to her "a stupid expedition," but Donnington had 
 a theory that the open air would do her good, and as for 
 Varick, he exclaimed in a good-humoured but very de- 
 termined tone : "If you won't come, Bubbles, I give the 
 whole thing up!" In a lower voice he added: "Naughty 
 as you are, you're the life and soul of the party." 
 
 And thus it was to please Varick, rather than Donning- 
 ton, that Bubbles started on what was to be to all those 
 that took part in it a memorable walk. 
 
 Poor Donnington! The young man felt alarmed and 
 perplexed concerning Bubbles' general condition. He 
 knew something that had shocked and startled her had 
 happened the day before, but when he had tried to find 
 out what it was, she had snubbed him. 
 
 Like so many people wiser and cleverer than himself, 
 Donnington found it impossible to make up his mind 
 concerning psychic phenomena. When kneeling by 
 Bubbles' side in the dimly-lit church he had accepted, al- 
 most without question, her own explanation of her strange 
 and sinister gift, but by now he had argued himself out of 
 the belief that such things could be in our work-a-day 
 world. 
 
 There was someone else of the party who was also giv- 
 ing a great deal of anxious thought to Bubbles' uncanny 
 powers. Blanche Farrow, like Helen Brabazon, could 
 not banish from her mind the experience which had be- 
 fallen her in the hall last evening. Every time she looked 
 at Lionel Varick there rose before her that terrible vision 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP '187: 
 
 of the two unquiet spirits who had stood, sentinel-wise, 
 on either side of him. . . . 
 
 Again and again in the long watches of a wakeful night, 
 Blanche had- assured herself that what she had seen was no 
 more real than is a vivid dream. She had further told 
 herself, taking comfort in the telling, that the power pos- 
 sessed by Bubbles was now understood, and .accounted 
 for, by those learned men who make a scientific study of 
 hypnotism. Yet, try as she would, she could not banish 
 from her mind and from her memory the unnerving ex- 
 perience. 
 
 They were crossing the moat bridge* when there, came a 
 shout from the house. They all stopped, to be joined, a 
 minute later, by Dr. Panton. "It's an extraordinary 
 thing," he exclaimed, "I fully intended to give up this 
 afternoon to writing, but somehow I suddenly felt as if I 
 must look out of the window! You all looked so merry 
 and bright that I have thrown my work to the winds, and 
 here I am, coming with you." 
 
 "I was rather counting on you to keep Miss Burnaby 
 company." 
 
 Varick's tone was not very pleasant, and Panton for 
 a moment regretted he had come; but as he had passed 
 through the hall he had seen the old lady nodding over a 
 book, and he was well aware that had he stayed indoors, 
 it would have been to work up in his own room. 
 
 Bill Donnington suddenly discovered that Bubbles was 
 wearing absurd, high-heeled, London walking shoes. "Go 
 back and put on something more sensible," he said shortly; 
 "I'll wait for you we'll soon pick up the others." 
 
 But Bubbles answered sullenly: "My heavy walking 
 boots got wet this morning." 
 
1 88 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Even as she spoke, she stood irresolute. Why not 
 make her unsuitable foot-gear an excuse for staying at 
 home? She told herself discontentedly that she hated 
 the thought of this walk. But Donnington would have 
 none of it. "Never mind," he said firmly, "you can 
 change your shoes and stockings the minute you come in." 
 
 Bubbles submitted with an ill grace, and after the whole 
 party were clear of the islet on which stood Wyndfell 
 Hall, she refused pettishly to walk anywhere near him. 
 She hung behind, even rejecting the company of James 
 Tapster, to whom, however, she was for the most part 
 fitfully gracious; and when, at length, the whole party 
 were sorting themselves into couples, she found herself 
 walking last with Varick, the others being all in front of 
 them. 
 
 Varick was disagreeably conscious that with his present 
 companion his charm of manner that something which 
 drew to him all women and most men availed him not 
 at all. Still, to-day, he was determined to get on good 
 terms with Bubbles. So well did he succeed that at last 
 something impelled her to say rather penitently : "I want 
 to tell you that what happened yesterday afternoon was 
 not my fault, and that I'm very sorry it happened, 
 Lionel." 
 
 Donnington, who was just in front, heard Varick an- 
 swer, lightly : "You can hardly expect me to believe that, 
 Bubbles ! But I would give a good deal to know how you 
 do it ?" As she made no answer, he went on : "It's a re- 
 markable thing to be able to will people into seeing some- 
 thing which is not there!" 
 
 Donnington strained his ears to hear the low, defiant 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 189 
 
 answer: "I give you my word of honour that I knew 
 nothing, nothing, till you came and woke me up!" 
 
 What was it that had happened yesterday ? The young 
 man felt almost unbearably anxious to know. All he 
 knew was that it had greatly affected, surprised, and dis- 
 turbed those who had been there. 
 
 Suddenly Varick's tones floated again towards the 
 listener : "I'll take your word for it, my dear girl. After 
 all, it's all in the picture. What with our ghosts, our 
 practical jokes, and so on, we're having a regular old- 
 fashioned Christmas ! Still, when I heard Miss Brabazon 
 give that dreadful cry, I did feel that one could have too 
 much of a good thing." 
 
 Even Donnington detected the false bonhomie in 
 Varick's voice. 
 
 Bubbles laughed back, not very pleasantly. "I did you 
 a good turn when I got rid of Mr. Burnaby. I thor- 
 oughly scared him! Your nice young doctor's a very 
 good exchange for that disagreeable old man." 
 
 "Yes, and Panton's a very clever fellow, as well as one 
 of the best," said Varick heartily. "I am glad he man- 
 aged to get out this afternoon." 
 
 "I thought you didn't want him to come," said Bub- 
 bles sharply. 
 
 "I knew he had some important work to finish." 
 
 Varick felt annoyed. Somehow Bubbles always seemed 
 to be convicting him of insincerity. 
 
 They were now close to the embankment, of which 
 their host had drawn an attractive picture. But Blanche 
 looked up at it with some dismay. The scene under the 
 wintry sky looked wild and singularly dreary. Many of 
 the fields were under water, and stretches of the marshy 
 
;i 9 o FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 land were still covered with wide streaks of snow. Across 
 the now sullen-looking, cloudy sky there moved a long 
 processional flight of cawing rooks. 
 
 The whole party closed up for a few moments. Then 
 they walked up the steps which led to the high causeway 
 along which Varick had promised his friends a dry walk. 
 Sure enough, once they had reached the top, they found 
 that the melting snow had already drained off the narrow 
 brick path. Even so, it was slippery walking, and for her 
 part Blanche Farrow felt sorry that they had left the 
 muddy road. 
 
 The party soon separated into couples again, Miss 
 Farrow and Dr. Panton leading, while Bubbles and Var- 
 ick came last, behind all the others. "We must look just 
 like the animals going into the ark," said the girl dis- 
 agreeably. 
 
 Whatever the others might be feeling, Dr. Panton was 
 thoroughly enjoying this muddy walk. He found it singu- 
 larly pleasant to be with agreeable, well-bred people, who 
 were all so fit that not one of them, with the exception 
 of James Tapster, had even asked him a question bearing 
 on health or the lack of it. It had been pleasant, too, to 
 meet Miss Brabazon again, for they had become friends, 
 rather than acquaintances, over poor Mrs. Varick's death- 
 bed. 
 
 Behind Dr. Panton and Miss Farrow for the brick 
 path which formed the crest of the embankment only held 
 two walkers comfortably were the least well-assorted 
 couple of the party, Bill Donnington and James Tapster. 
 They just plodded along side by side, now and again 
 exchanging a laconic word or two. Tapster's half -formed 
 hope had been that he would walk with Bubbles this after- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP i 9 i 
 
 noon; but, when it came to the point, he had made no 
 real effort to secure her company. 
 
 The unfortunate man was feeling very nervous and 
 uneasy af raid lest he had been too precipitate in his woo- 
 ing, for Bubbles frightened as well as fascinated him. 
 Even he half realized that, as her husband, he would be 
 tolerated rather than welcomed in a world of which he 
 was anxious to form part, though in his heart he at once 
 despised and feared its denizens. 
 
 At times he was even tempted to wish that she had said 
 "No" at once and that although he knew that he would 
 have been very surprised and disappointed had she done 
 so. On the whole he thought that after a period of maid- 
 enly hesitation she would say "Yes" ; and, having inherited 
 from an acquisitive father a positive, concrete kind of 
 mind, as he trudged along he began ruminating over the 
 question of Bubbles' marriage settlements. On one thing 
 he was determined. Nothing should induce him so to ar- 
 range matters that in the event of his death Bubbles should 
 be able to dower some worthless fortune-hunter with his, 
 Tapster's, wealth! He felt certain that her father's so- 
 licitors would try and arrange that this might come to 
 pass "lawyers are such cunning devils" and he grew 
 purple with rage at the thought. 
 
 How surprised Donnington would have been could he 
 have looked into his dull companion's mind ! 
 
 In addition to Dr. Panton, two other people were really 
 enjoying this uncomfortable walk, for Helen Brabazon 
 and Sir Lyon Dilsford had plenty to say to one another. 
 It was very seldom that Sir Lyon found a young woman 
 interested in the subjects he himself had most at heart. 
 He found it a curiously pleasant experience to answer her 
 
i 9 2 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 eager, ignorant questions on sociological and political sub- 
 jects. It was clear that Miss Brabazon only regarded her- 
 self as the trustee of her vast wealth, and this touched her 
 companion very much. Also, what had happened yester- 
 day that sudden, intimate confession of what had taken 
 place in the hall had made their relations to one another 
 much closer. But neither of them had alluded to it again. 
 
 As for Lionel Varick and Bubbles Dunster, they were 
 now lagging some way behind the others. More than once 
 the girl suggested that she should slip away and go back 
 to Wyndfell Hall alone, but her host would not hear of it. 
 He declared good-humouredly that soon they would all be 
 homeward bound; so, apathetically, Bubbles walked on, 
 her feet and her head aching. 
 
 The old Roman embankment now formed part of the 
 works connected with a big reservoir, and at last the walk- 
 ers reached a kind of platform from whence they could 
 see, stretching out to their right, a wide, triangular- 
 shaped piece of water. 
 
 Blanche Farrow was for turning back; but Helen 
 Brabazon, Sir Lyon, and Varick were all for going on, the 
 more so that Varick declared that at a cottage which 
 formed the apex of the reservoir they would be able to get 
 some tea. So off. they started again, in the same order as 
 before, to find, however, that the narrow brick-way, in- 
 stead of being drier as one would have expected it to be 
 above the water was more slushy and slippery than had 
 been the path running along the top of the older part of 
 the embankment. Yet the steep bank leading down to 
 the sullen, half-frozen surface of the reservoir had been 
 cleared ot the grass and bushes which covered the slopes 
 of the rest of the causeway. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP -193 
 
 They had all been walking on again for some minutes 
 when Donnington turned round. "Take care, Bubbles! 
 It's very slippery just here." 
 
 "I'm all right," she called back pettishly. "Mind your 
 own business, Bill. I wish you wouldn't keep looking 
 round!" 
 
 Donnington saw Varick put out his right hand and 
 grasp the girl's arm firmly ; but even so it struck him that 
 they were both walking too near the edge on the side to 
 the water. Still, he didn't feel he could say any more, 
 and so he turned away, and again began trudging along 
 by the silent Tapster's side. 
 
 For a while nothing happened, and then all at once 
 there occurred something which Donnington will never 
 recall and that however long he may live without a 
 sensation of unreasoning, retrospective horror welling up 
 within him. 
 
 And yet it was only the sound the almost stufHess 
 sound of a splash! It was as if a lump of earth, becom- 
 ing detached from the wet bank, had rolled over into the 
 deep water. 
 
 At the same moment, or a fraction of a moment later, 
 Varick laughed aloud ; it was a discordant laugh, evidently 
 at something Bubbles had just said, for Donnington heard 
 the words, "Really, Bubbles !" uttered in a loud, remon- 
 strating, and yet jovial voice. 
 
 And then, all at once, some instinct caused the young 
 man to wheel sharply round, to see, a long way back from 
 the others, Varick standing solitary on the brick path. 
 
 His companion had vanished. It was as if the earth 
 had swallowed her up. 
 
 "Where's Bubbles?" shouted Donnington. 
 
194 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 But Varick, still standing in the middle of the path, did 
 not look as if he heard Donnington' s question. The young 
 man set off running towards him. 
 
 "What's happened?" he cried fiercely. "Where's Bub- 
 bles, Varick ?" 
 
 Varick was ashen ; and he looked dazed utterly unlike 
 his usual collected self. 
 
 "She stumbled and went over the side of the em- 
 bankment. She's in the water, down there," he said at 
 last, in a hoarse, stifled voice. 
 
 Donnington turned quickly, and stared down into the 
 grey water. He could see nothing nothing ! He threw 
 off his coat. 
 
 "Was it just here?" 
 
 He looked at Varick with a feeling of anguished ex- 
 asperation; it was as if the horror and the shock had con- 
 gealed the man's mental faculties. 
 
 Suddenly Varick roused himself. 
 
 "Can you swim?" He gripped Donnington strongly 
 by the arm. "If not, it's it's no good your going in 
 you'd only drown too." 
 
 Donnington wrenched himself free from the other's 
 hold, and, rushing down the bank, threw himself into the 
 icy cold water. . . . 
 
 Suddenly he saw, a long way off, a small, shapeless, 
 mass rising ... he swam towards it, and then he gave a 
 sobbing gasp of relief. It was Bubbles . . . Bubbles al- 
 ready unconscious ; but of that he was vaguely glad, know- 
 ing that it would much simplify his task. 
 
 Very soon, although he was quite unaware of it, the 
 affrighted, startled little crowd of people gathered to- 
 gether just above the place where he was painfully, slowly, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP *i 95 
 
 swimming about, looking for a spot where he could try 
 and effect a landing with his now heavy, inert burden. 
 
 Dr. Panton threw himself down flat across the path and 
 held out a walking stick over the slippery mud bank, but 
 the stick was hopelessly, grotesquely out of Donnington' s 
 reach. 
 
 All at once Blanche Farrow detached herself from the 
 others and began running towards the cottage which 
 formed the apex of the reservoir. ''I'm going for a rope," 
 she called out. "I'll be back in three or four minutes." 
 But, thanks to Dr. Panton's ingenuity, the man in the 
 water had not to wait even so short a time as that. 
 
 "Have any of you a good long scarf ?" asked the doctor, 
 and then, quite eagerly for him, James Tapster produced 
 a wonderful scarf the sort of scarf a millionaire would 
 wear, so came the whimsical thought to Sir Lyon. It 
 was wide and very long, made of the finest knitted silk. 
 When firmly tied to the handle of the walking stick, the 
 floating end of the scarf was within reach of Donnington. 
 With its help he even managed to secure a foothold on the 
 narrow one-brick ledge which terminated the deep under- 
 water wall of the reservoir. 
 
 The doctor called down to him with some urgency : "I 
 wish you could manage to hoist her up, Donnington. 
 Time is of the utmost importance in these cases!" 
 
 But Donnington, try as he might, was too spent to obey ; 
 and it seemed an eternity to them all before Blanche Far- 
 row reappeared, helping an old man to drag a short ladder 
 along the muddy path. 
 
 And then, at last, after many weary, fruitless efforts, 
 the inert, sodden mass which had so lately been poor little 
 
196 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Bubbles Dunster was pushed and hoisted up the slippery 
 bank, and stretched out on to the narrow brick way. 
 
 Mr. Tapster, who had shown much more agitation and 
 feeling than any of those present would have credited him 
 with, had taken off his big loose coat and laid it on the 
 ground, and at once Varick had followed his example. 
 But as Bubbles lay there, in the dreadful immobility of 
 utter unconsciousness, both Blanche Farrow and Helen 
 Brabazon believed her to be dead. 
 
 A tragic, fearfully anxious time of suspense followed. 
 Blanche looked on, with steady, dry eyes, but Helen, after 
 a very little while, turned away and hid her face in her 
 hands, sobbing, while the doctor was engaged in the pain- 
 ful process of trying to bring the apparently drowned girl 
 to life. More than once Blanche felt tempted to implore 
 him to leave off those terribly arduous efforts of his. It 
 seemed to her so -so horrible, almost degrading, that Bub- 
 bles' delicate little body should be used like that. 
 
 Everyone was too concerned over Bubbles to trouble 
 about her rescuer. But all at once Varick exclaimed: 
 "We don't want you down with rheumatic fever. I'll just 
 march you back to the house, my boy!" 
 
 "Not as long as she's here," muttered Donnington, his 
 teeth chattering. "I'm all right; it doesn't matter about 
 
 me." 
 
 He alone of the people gathered there believed that Dr. 
 Panton's perseverance would be rewarded, and that Bub- 
 bles would come back to life. It did not seem to him pos- 
 sible that that which he had saved, and which he so loved 
 and cherished, could die. Though he was beginning to 
 feel the reaction of all he had gone through, his mind 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP '197 
 
 was working clearly, and he was praying praying con- 
 sciously, in an agony of supplication. 
 
 And at last, with a sensation of relief which brought the 
 tears starting to his eyes, Dr. Panton saw that his efforts 
 were to be successful; Bubbles, after a little choking gasp, 
 gave a long, fluttering sigh. . . . 
 
 It was then that the doctor had to thank Sir Lyon and 
 Helen Brabazon. One of them, or both of them together, 
 had thought of going back to the house and of getting an 
 invalid chair which Helen remembered having seen in a 
 corner of one of the rooms when she had been shown over 
 the house by her host. 
 
 Even so, it was a very melancholy little procession 
 which followed the two men carrying the chair on which 
 Bubbles now lay in apathetic silence. 
 
 But everything comes to an end at last, and, after hav- 
 ing seen Bubbles put to bed, Dr. Panton turned his at- 
 tention to Donnington, and he did not leave his second 
 patient till the young man felt, if still shivery and queer, 
 fairly comfortable in bed. Then the doctor went down 
 to find the other three men in the dining-room, having 
 hot drinks. 
 
 Of the three Varick and Sir Lyon showed on their 
 faces traces of the emotion and anxiety which they had 
 been through; but James Tapster looked his normal, 
 phlegmatic self. 
 
 "I wonder what exactly happened ?" exclaimed Panton 
 at last. "I suppose the whole thing was owing to these 
 high-heeled shoes which women will wear." 
 
 Varick nodded, and, as he saw that Panton expected 
 
198 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 him to say something, he muttered : "Yes, it must have 
 been something of the kind that made her trip." 
 
 "It was a near thing," went on the doctor thought- 
 fully. "She was very far gone when we got her out at 
 last. I don't mind admitting now that, when I began, I 
 had hardly any hope of being able to bring her round." 
 
 He waited a moment and then added, as if to himself : 
 "In fact, there came a time when I would have left off, 
 discouraged, but for the look on that boy's face." 
 
 "What boy?" asked Tapster, surprised. 
 
 "Donnington, of course ! I felt I must bring her back 
 to life for his sake." 
 
 James Tapster opened his mouth. Then he shut it 
 again. He told himself that it would, of course, have 
 been very disappointing for Donnington to have plunged 
 into that icy water all for nothing, as it were. 
 
 The four men remained silent for awhile, and then 
 Varick said slowly : "She can't have been in the water 
 more than a minute before Donnington was in after her 
 for of course I gave the alarm at once." 
 
 Sir Lyon looked at him quickly. "I thought Don- 
 nington turned round and missed her?" 
 
 "Donnington must have heard me call out." Varick 
 was lighting a cigarette, and Sir Lyon saw that his hand 
 shook; "and yet when I saw her roll down the bank I was 
 so paralyzed with horror that my voice seemed to go." 
 
 He looked appealingly at his friend Panton. 
 
 "Yes, I can well understand that," said the doctor feel- 
 ingly. "I have known shock close the throat absolutely." 
 He added: "Did you see her sink and rise again twice 
 before Donnington got at her, Varick? I have always 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP * 199 
 
 wondered whether drowning people always come up three 
 times or if it's only an old wives' tale." 
 
 "Yes, no, I can't remember " 
 
 Varick put his hand over his eyes, as if trying to shut 
 out some dreadful sight. Then he groped his way to a 
 chair, and sat down heavily. 
 
 "I say, Varick, I am sorry." 
 
 Dr. Panton looked really concerned. "We've been 
 thinking so much of Miss Bubbles and of her rescuer 
 that we have forgotten you!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Their host leant forward; he buried his face in his 
 hands. "I shall never forget it never," he muttered 
 brokenly. "The horror that seized me the awful feel- 
 ing that I could do nothing nothing! I felt so abso- 
 lutely distraught that I seemed to see myself, not Bub- 
 bles, floating down there on the surface of the water." 
 
 He looked up, and they were all, even Tapster, pain- 
 fully impressed by his look of retrospective horror. Dr. 
 Panton told himself that Lionel Varick was an even 
 more sensitive man than he had hitherto known him 
 to be. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 DINNER was to be half an hour later than usual, 
 and Dr. Panton, as he went off to his comfortable, 
 warm room, felt pleasantly, healthily tired. 
 
 He had gone in to see his patients for a moment on 
 his way upstairs, and they were both going on well. Bub- 
 bles was beginning to look her own queer, elfish little self 
 again. She was curiously apathetic, as people so often 
 are after any kind of shock, but it was clear that there 
 were to be no bad after-effects of the accident. As for 
 Donnington, the young man declared that he felt quite all 
 right, and he was even anxious to get up for dinner. But 
 that, of course, could not be allowed. 
 
 "All's well that ends well/' muttered the doctor, as 
 he threw himself for a moment into a chair drawn up in- 
 vitingly before the fire. 
 
 He did go on to tell himself, however, that he now felt 
 a little concerned over Lionel Varick. Varick now looked 
 far more really ill than did either Bubbles or Bill Don- 
 nington. 
 
 The doctor recalled a certain terrible day, rather over 
 a year ago, when Varick had broken down utterly! It 
 was the afternoon that poor Milly was being put into 
 her coffin; and, by sheer good luck he, Panton, hap- 
 pened to call in. He had found Varick sitting alone, 
 looking very desolate, in the dining-room of the common- 
 place little villa, while from overhead there came the 
 sounds of heavy feet moving this way and that. 
 
 200 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 201 
 
 All at once there had come a loud knock at the front 
 door, and Varick, starting up, had uttered a fearful cry. 
 Then, sitting down again, he had begun trembling, as if 
 he had the ague. He, Panton, had been so concerned at 
 the poor fellow's condition that he had insisted, there and 
 then, on taking him along to his own house, and he had 
 kept him there as his guest till the day of Mrs. Varick's 
 funeral. 
 
 As these memories came crowding on him, the door of 
 his room opened quietly, and the man who was filling his 
 mind walked in. 
 
 Varick was already dressed for dinner, and, not for 
 the first time, the doctor told himself what a distinguished- 
 looking man his friend and host was. 
 
 "Panton," said Varick abruptly, "I have something, on 
 my mind." 
 
 The doctor looked up, surprised. "What is it, my 
 dear fellow?" he asked kindly. 
 
 "I can't help thinking that in some inexplicable way I 
 pushed Bubbles Dunster over the edge of that embank- 
 ment. Has she said anything to you about it?" 
 
 Dr. Panton got up and came over to the speaker. He 
 put his hand heavily on Varick's shoulder, and almost 
 forced him down into the chair from which he had him- 
 self risen. 
 
 "Look here," he exclaimed, "this won't do at all ! Pull 
 yourself together, man you mustn't get such fancies into 
 your head. That way madness lies. Still, you may as 
 well try and get it off your chest once for all* Tell me 
 exactly what did happen? Begin at the beginning " 
 
 As Varick remained silent, the doctor went on, en- 
 couragingly: "I will start you by reminding you that 
 
202 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Miss Bubbles was wearing the most absurd high-heeled 
 shoes. Young Donnington spoke to her about them, and 
 that drew my attention to her feet as we came out of the 
 gate. She even tripped when we were just past the bridge. 
 Do you remember that?" 
 
 "No, I didn't notice her at all." 
 
 "Well, tell me exactly what happened just before she 
 fell over the edge of the embankment?" 
 
 "I don't know that there's very much to tell/' Varick 
 was now staring into the fire, but at last he began in a 
 strained, tired voice: 
 
 "Donnington had just shouted out that we were walk- 
 ing rather too near to the edge, and so I took hold of 
 her arm. But you know what Bubbles is like? She's a 
 queer kind of girl, and she tried to wrench herself free. 
 Then I gripped a little harder and well, I don't know 
 exactly what did happen ! I suppose her foot turned, for 
 I suddenly felt her weight full on me, and then, and 
 then " 
 
 "Yes," said Dr. Panton soothingly, "I know exactly 
 what happened. You instinctively straightened yourself 
 to try to put her on her feet again, but she'd already lost 
 her balance " 
 
 "I suppose that's what did happen," said Varick in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " And her foot turning again, she rolled down the 
 
 steep embankment," concluded the doctor firmly. "You 
 did nothing, my dear chap, absolutely nothing, to bring 
 the accident about! Put that idea, once and for all, out 
 of your mind." 
 
 "I would," said Varick painfully, "I would, but that 
 I'm afraid in fact, I feel sure that she thinks I pushed 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 203 
 
 her in. She turned the most awful look on me, Panton, 
 as she fell over the edge. I shall never forget it." 
 
 "That look had nothing to do with you/' said the doc- 
 tor decidedly. "It was simply the terrified look of a 
 human being on the brink of a frightful death." 
 
 "You're a good friend," muttered Varick, getting up. 
 "I'll leave you to dress now." 
 
 "Wait a moment!" exclaimed Panton; "there's one 
 thing about Miss Bubbles' accident which does trouble 
 me, I admit. It puzzled me at the time ; and I can see it is 
 puzzling young Donnington too." 
 
 Varick, who was already at the door, stayed his steps 
 and turned round. 
 
 There had come back into his face the strained look 
 which had softened away while he listened to his friend's 
 sensible remarks. "Yes," he said impatiently, "yes, Pan- 
 ton? What is it that puzzles you?" 
 
 "I wish I knew exactly how long Miss Bubbles was 
 in the water. She was very, very far gone when that boy 
 managed to clutch hold of her. Did you see her go down 
 again, and come up again twice? Forgive me, my dear 
 fellow, I'm afraid I'm distressing you." 
 
 "You asked me that downstairs," said Varick, "and I 
 told you then that that I didn't know." 
 
 "I thought," said Dr. Panton, "that you remembered 
 so dearly all that had happened by what you said just 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, up to the moment when she fell in, I remember 
 everything. But once she was in the water everything 
 became blurred. All I can say is that it seemed as if 
 hours drifted by before I saw you all come running up 
 towards me " 
 
204 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Come, come/' said Panton, a trifle impatiently. "As 
 a matter of fact it can't have been more than three 
 minutes. Still, it was long enough for the girl to go as 
 near the Great Divide, as a friend of mine calls it, as I've 
 ever known a human being go." 
 
 "I suppose," said Varick slowly, "that if you hadn't 
 been there Bubbles would now be dead?" 
 
 "Well, yes, I'm afraid that's true," said the doctor 
 simply. "I should have expected that clever, intelligent 
 Miss Farrow, to say nothing of Miss Brabazon, to know 
 something about First Aid. But neither of them know 
 anything ! The only person who was of the slightest use 
 
 was young Donnington; and I suspect " he smiled 
 
 broadly. 
 
 "What do you suspect?" asked Varick rather quickly. 
 
 "Well, I suspect that he's in love with Miss Bubbles." 
 
 "Of course he is." Varick' s contemptuous tone jarred 
 a little on Panton. "But Bubbles intends to become Mrs. 
 Tapster." 
 
 "I should be sorry to think that!" 
 
 "Why sorry? The modern young woman and Bub- 
 bles is a very modern young woman knows the value of 
 money," said Varick dryly. 
 
 He waited a moment. "I'll leave you now, Panton, 
 and I'll see that the dinner-bell isn't rung till you're quite 
 ready."- 
 
 "All right. I won't be ten minutes " 
 
 But Varick lingered by the door. "Panton," he ex- 
 claimed, "you've been a good friend to me! I want to 
 tell you that I shall never forget it. As long as there's 
 breath* in my body I shall be grateful to you." 
 
 As the doctor dressed he told himself again that Varick 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 205 
 
 had never really recovered from the strain of his wife's 
 long illness. Under that rather exceptionally calm, stead- 
 fast-looking exterior, the man was extraordinarily sensi- 
 tive. How upset, for instance, Varick had been about 
 Miss Pigchalke's crazy advertisement. He, Panton, had 
 felt quite sorry that he had said anything about it. 
 
 While putting on his tie, he told himself that what the 
 dear fellow wanted now was a good, sensible second wife. 
 And then, as he formulated that thought to himself, the 
 young man for he was still quite a young man stopped 
 what he was doing, and rubbed his hands joyfully. Why, 
 of course! What a fool he had been never to think of 
 it before though to be sure it would really have been 
 almost indecent to have thought of it before. Helen 
 Brabazon? The very woman for Lionel Varick! Such 
 a marriage would be the making of his highly-strung, 
 fine-natured friend. 
 
 As he hurriedly finished dressing, Panton plumed him- 
 self on his cleverness. With all his heart he hoped the 
 day would come when he would be able to say to Varick : 
 "Ages before you thought of her, old chap, / selected 
 Miss Brabazon as your future bride!" He hoped, un- 
 easily, that Sir Lyon was not seriously in the running. 
 But he had noticed that Sir* Lyon and Miss Brabazon 
 seemed to have a good deal to say to one another. 
 Women, so he told himself ruefully, like to be "My lady." 
 But she was certainly fond of Varick she had been fond 
 of him (of course, only as a woman may be of a friend's 
 husband) during those sad weeks at Redsands. 
 ***** 
 
 As the doctor came out of his room he decided to go 
 in for a moment and see Bubbles Dunster. Somehow 
 
206 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 he did not feel quite easy about her. He wondered, un- 
 comfortably, if there could be anything in Varick's pain- 
 ful suspicion. After her aunt and Helen Brabazon be- 
 tween them had put her to bed, and he had come in, alone, 
 to see how she was, she had said abruptly : "I wonder if 
 it's true that doctors can keep a secret better than most 
 men?" And when he had made some joking answer, 
 she had asked, in a very serious tone: "You're a great 
 friend of Lionel Varick, eh?" He had answered : "Men 
 don't vow eternal friendships in the way I'm told young 
 ladies do; but, yes, I hope I am a great friend of Lionel 
 Varick's. I've a high opinion of him, Miss Bubbles, and 
 I've seen him under circumstances that test a man." 
 
 She had looked at him fixedly while he said these words, 
 and then she had opened and shut her eyes in a very odd 
 way. He now asked himself if it was probable pos- 
 sible conceivable that she blamed Varick for her acci- 
 dent? He, Varick, evidently thought so. 
 
 And then, as he walked along the darkened corridor, 
 there came over Dr. Panton a most extraordinary feel- 
 ing a feeling that he was not alone. 
 
 He stayed his steps, and listened intently. But the 
 only sound he heard was the ticking of a clock. He 
 walked on, and all at once there came a word repeated 
 twice, quite distinctly, almost as if in his ear. It was 
 a disagreeable, an offensive word a word, or rather an 
 appellation, which the clever young doctor had not heard 
 applied to himself for a good many years. For, twice 
 over, was the word "Fool!" repeated in a mocking voice, 
 a voice to whose owner he could not at the moment put 
 a name, and yet which seemed vaguely familiar. 
 
 Then he remembered. Why, of course, it was the voice 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 207 
 
 of that crazy, unpleasant old woman* who had called on 
 him last spring ! But how had Miss Pigchalke found her 
 way into Wyndfell Hall? And where on earth was 
 she? 
 
 He looked round him, this way and that; and his 
 eyes, by now accustomed to the dim light thrown by a 
 hanging lamp, saw everything quite distinctly. He. was 
 certainly alone in the corridor now. But Miss Pigchalke 
 had as certainly been there a moment ago*. He wondered 
 if she could have hidden herself in a huge oak chest which 
 stood to his right? Nay, there she could not be, for he 
 remembered having been shown that it was full of 
 eighteenth-century gala gowns. 
 
 And while he was looking about him, feeling utterly 
 perplexed and bewildered, through a door which was ajar 
 there suddenly passed out Lionel Varick. 
 
 "Is anyone in there ?" asked the doctor sharply. 
 
 Varick started violently. "You did startle me!" he 
 exclaimed. "No, there's no one in there I came up to 
 look for a book. But as I told them to delay dinner yet 
 a little longer, would you mind if we went in and saw 
 Bubbles together on our way downstairs ? I feel I should 
 rather like to get my first interview with her over and 
 with you there." 
 
 "I don't see why you shouldn't." But there was a 
 doubtful ring in Dr. Panton's voice. He would, as a 
 matter of fact, have very much preferred that Varick 
 should not see the girl to-night, especially if there was 
 the slightest truth in the other's suspicion that Bubbles 
 believed him to have been in any way instrumental, how- 
 ever accidentally, in making her fall into the water. 
 
 His mind worked quickly, as minds are apt to work 
 
208 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 when faced with that sort of problem, and he decided 
 that on the whole he might as well let Varick do as he 
 wished. 
 
 "You'd better not say very much to her. Just say you 
 hope she's feeling all right by now or something of 
 that sort." 
 
 But when they came to the closed door of the girl's 
 room he turned and said: "I'll just go in and prepare 
 her for your visit if you don't mind?" 
 
 Bubbles was lying straight down in bed, for, at her 
 own request, the bolster had been taken away. Her 
 head was only just raised up on the pillow. By the light 
 of the one candle he could see her slender form outlined 
 under the bed-clothes. Her eyes were closed, her features 
 pinched and worn. There was something almost deathly 
 in the look of her little face. 
 
 He wondered if she was asleep if so, it would be 
 rather a relief to him to go outside the door and tell 
 Varick that she mustn't be disturbed. But all at once 
 she opened her eyes widely, and there even came the 
 quiver of a smile over her face. 
 
 "Doctor?" she said plaintively. "Doctor, come nearer, 
 I want to ask you a question." 
 
 "Yes?" he said. "What is it, Miss Bubbles?" 
 
 "I want to ask you," she said dreamily, "why you 
 brought me back? I was beginning to feel so much at 
 home in the grey world. There were such kind people 
 there, waiting to welcome me. Only one friend I felt 
 sad to leave behind " 
 
 "Tut-tut!" he said, a little startled. "You were nevei; 
 anywhere near leaving us, Miss Bubbles/' 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 209 
 
 "I know I was, and you know it, too. But you called 
 me back. Confess that you did !" 
 
 "I'll confess nothing of the sort," he answered a little 
 shortly. 
 
 There was a little pause, and then he went on, "There's 
 someone outside the door who wants to see you; some- 
 one who's feeling most awfully miserable about you." 
 
 A look of unease and of anxiety came over her face. 
 "D'you mean Mr. Tapster?" she said hesitatingly. 
 
 "Good heavens, no!" He was surprised, and a little 
 disgusted. "Can't you guess who it is?" 
 
 He saw the look in her face grow to shrinking fear. 
 "I can't guess at all," she said weakly. "You won't 
 allow Bill to get up I know that because he sent me a 
 message. Bill's the only person I want to see." 
 
 "He'll come soon enough," said Dr. Panton, smiling. 
 
 "It was really Bill who saved me," she went on, as if 
 speaking to herself. 
 
 "Of course it was Bill!" he spoke now with hearty as- 
 sent. "You've a splendid friend in that young man, Miss 
 Bubbles, and I hope you're properly grateful to him?" 
 
 "I think I am," she said slowly. "I'm trying to be." 
 
 "And the other friend who wants to see you may he 
 come in for a minute?" 
 
 "The other friend? Do you mean Sir Lyon?" 
 
 "No, no of course not!" He spoke with a touch of 
 impatience now. 
 
 "Mr. Tapster," said Bubbles, nervously flying off at a 
 tangent, "wants me to marry him, Dr. Panton. He asked 
 me was it yesterday morning, or this morning?" She 
 knitted her brows. "Of course, I had to help him out. 
 The moment he'd said it, he began to hope that I'd say 
 
210 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 'No' so I thought I'd punish him, by leaving him in 
 suspense a bit." 
 
 "He was very distressed at your accident," said the 
 doctor rather stiffly. Bubbles' queer confidence had 
 startled him. 
 
 "Most men only really want what they feel is out of 
 their reach," she whispered. "When he thought me gone, 
 he wanted me back again. He's like that. He'll make a 
 much nicer widower than he will a husband!" 
 
 She looked up and smiled, but he felt as if she was 
 keeping him at arm's length. 
 
 "It's Mr. Varick who's outside the door and who wants 
 to come in and see you," he said suddenly, in a matter- 
 of-fact voice. 
 
 Bubbles turned her head away quickly. "Not to-night, 
 doctor; I'm too tired." She spoke very decidedly, and 
 in a stronger voice than she had yet used. "I'd rather 
 wait till I get up before seeing Mr. Varick." 
 
 "He only wants to come in for a minute do see him." 
 
 Dr. Panton spoke persuasively, but he told himself 
 that Varick was right Bubbles had got that extraor- 
 dinary, horrible notion into her head. "He's very much 
 upset," he went on, "he thinks that unconsciously he may 
 have given you some kind of push over the edge of the 
 embankment." 
 
 He saw her face change. It crimsoned darkly. 
 
 "Has he told you that?" she muttered. 
 
 "Yes, he has; and he's awfully upset about it, Miss 
 Bubbles." 
 
 "I suppose I had better see him. I shall have to see 
 him some time." 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 211 
 
 She said the words between her teeth, and, making an 
 effort, she sat up in bed. 
 
 Dr. Panton went to the door, and opened it. 
 
 "Come in," he called out; "but don't stay long, Varick. 
 Miss Bubbles is very tired to-night." 
 
 Varick came in slowly and advanced with curiously 
 hesitating, nervous steps, towards the bed. "Well, Bub- 
 bles," he exclaimed, "I'm glad you're no worse for your 
 ducking!" 
 
 She looked at him fixedly, but said nothing. Dr. Pan- 
 ton began to feel desperately uncomfortable. 
 
 "I hope you'll be quite all right to-morrow," went on 
 Varick. 
 
 "I think I shall, thank you." 
 
 Bubbles seemed to be looking beyond her visitor not 
 at him. She seemed to be gazing at something at the 
 other end of the room. 
 
 "You've brought someone in with you," she said sud- 
 denly. There was a curious tone almost a tone of 
 exultation in her voice. "Who is it?" she asked im- 
 periously. "Tell me who it is Lionel." 
 
 She very rarely called Varick "Lionel." 
 
 He wheeled round with a startled look. "There's no 
 one here," he answered, "but Dr. Panton and myself." 
 
 "Oh yes, there is." Bubbles spoke very positively. 
 "There's a woman here. I can see her quite distinctly in 
 the firelight. She's got a fat, angry face, and untidy 
 grey hair. Hullo, she's gone now!" 
 
 Bubbles fell back on to her pillow and closed her eyes. 
 It was as if she was dismissing them. 
 
 Varick turned uneasily to the doctor. "Is she de- 
 lirious?" he whispered. 
 
212 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 The doctor shook his head. He also was startled 
 startled more than surprised. For in just Bubbles' words 
 would he have described the odious woman who had 
 come to see him last spring, and whose voice he had heard 
 within the last few minutes. 
 
 He now had no doubt that Miss Pigchalke had been 
 in the corridor, or, more likely, in some room opening 
 out of it, and that she had followed Varick into this 
 darkened room and then, noiselessly, slipped out again. 
 
 Bubbles opened her eyes. 
 
 "I'll come up after dinner for a few minutes," said 
 Dr. Panton. Bubbles made no answer ; her eyes were now 
 following Varick out of the door. 
 
 The doctor lingered for a moment. "You're sure there 
 was someone there?" he asked. 
 
 "Of course I'm sure." Bubbles spoke quite positively. 
 "I'm sure" and then he saw a change come over her 
 face '"and yet I don't know that I am quite sure," she 
 murmured dreamily. 
 
 As Dr. Panton went down the shallow oak staircase 
 he felt in a turmoil of doubt and discomfort. To his 
 mind there was no reasonable doubt that Miss Pigchalke 
 had somehow effected an entrance to Wyndfell Hall. She 
 had lived there for long years; she must know every 
 corner of the strange old house. 
 
 When he reached the hall where the whole party was 
 gathered together, he went up to Blanche Farrow. "May 
 I speak to you a moment?" he whispered. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked anxiously. "Isn't Bubbles 
 sowell?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; Miss Bubbles is going on all right. But, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 213 
 
 Miss Farrow? I want to tell you something that, if 
 possible, I should like to keep from Varick." 
 
 "Yeswhat is it?" 
 
 "Someone who has a grudge against him, a tiresome 
 old woman who was companion to Mrs. Varick for many 
 years, has somehow got into this house. She spoke to 
 me just as I came out of my room. I didn't see her, but 
 I heard her voice quite distinctly. And when Varick and 
 I went into Miss Bubbles' room for a moment, on our 
 way downstairs, she followed us in Miss Bubbles de- 
 scribed her exactly. Then suddenly she disappeared. I 
 am sure she's hiding in one of the bedrooms." 
 
 "What a horrid idea!" exclaimed Blanche. 
 
 "Now comes the question can we manage to hunt 
 her out, and get her away from the house, without Varick 
 knowing?" 
 
 "But why shouldn't he know?" asked Blanche hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 "Look at him," said the doctor impressively. And 
 Blanche, glancing quickly across the room, was struck 
 by Varick's look of illness. 
 
 "There's no reason for telling him anything about it," 
 she admitted. "But hadn't we better wait till after 
 dinner before doing anything?" 
 
 "Perhaps we had." " 
 
 Dinner was a curious, uncomfortable meal; even Sir 
 Lyon and Helen Brabazon felt the atmosphere charged 
 with anxiety and depression. 
 
 Miss Burnaby alone was her usual placid, quietly greedy 
 self. She had expressed suitable regret at all that had 
 happened, but most of the party realized that she had 
 not really cared at all. 
 
214 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 When the ladies passed through into the white par- 
 lour, Blanche slipped away. She got hold of her firm 
 ally, the butler, and explained in a very few words what 
 she thought had better be done. Accompanied by Pegler, 
 they went into every room, and into every nook and 
 cranny of the house, upstairs and down but they found 
 no trace of any alien presence. 
 
 Miss Pigchalke, so much was clear, had vanished as 
 quietly and silently as she had come. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ONE two three four five six 
 Bubbles heard the clock in the dark corridor 
 outside her room ring out the harmonious chimes, and 
 she turned restlessly round in her warm, comfortable bed. 
 
 It was very annoying to think she would have to wait 
 two hours for a cup of tea, but there it was! She had 
 herself told Pegler she didn't want to be disturbed till 
 eight o'clock. She still felt too "done," too weak, to get 
 up and try to find her way to the kitchen to make herself 
 some tea. 
 
 She lay, with her eyes wide open, longing for the day- 
 light, and looking back with shrinking fear to a night full 
 of a misty horror. 
 
 Again and again she had lived through that awful mo- 
 ment when Varick had pushed her over the edge of the 
 embankment, to roll quickly, softly, inexorably, into the 
 icy-cold water. 
 
 She knew he had pushed her over. To herself it was 
 a fact which did not admit of any doubt at all. She had 
 seen the mingled hatred and relief which had convulsed 
 his face. It was with that face she would always see 
 Lionel Varick henceforth. 
 
 There had been a moment when she had thought she 
 would tell Dr. Panton ; then she had come to the conclu- 
 sion that there was no good purpose to be served by tell- 
 ing the strange and dreadful truth. 
 
 215 
 
216 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Some noble lines of Swinburne's which had once been 
 quoted to her by a friend she loved, floated into her 
 mind 
 
 "But ye, keep ye on earth 
 Your lips from over-speech, 
 Loud words and longing are so little worth; 
 And the end is hard to reach. 
 For silence after grievous thing's is good, 
 And reverence, and the fear that makes men whole 
 And shame, and righteous goverance of blood, 
 And Lordship of the Soul. 
 
 And from sharp words and wits men pluck no fruit, 
 And gathering thorns they shake the tree at root; 
 For words divide and rend, 
 But silence is most noble till the end." 
 
 As she lay there, feeling physically so ill and weak, 
 while yet her mind worked so clearly and quickly, she 
 set herself to solve a painful puzzle. Why had Varick 
 tried to do her to death? She admitted to herself that 
 she had never liked him, but she had never done him any 
 harm. And they had been on good terms outwardly 
 always. 
 
 For hours, amid fitful, nightmarish snatches of sleep, 
 and long, lucid intervals of thought, Bubbles had wrestled 
 with the question. 
 
 And then, lying there in the early morning*, Bubbles 
 suddenly knew. Varick hated and feared her because she 
 had unwittingly raised his wife from the dead. And, be- 
 lieving that if he killed her, he would lay that sinister, 
 vengeful, unquiet ghost, he had deliberately planned yes- 
 terday's expedition in order to do that which he had so 
 nearly succeeded in doing. 
 
 Bubbles gave an eerie little chuckle which startled her- 
 self. "I'd have haunted him !" she muttered aloud. "He'd 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 217 
 
 have found it more difficult to get rid of me dead than 
 alive." 
 
 Even as she murmured the words, the door opened, 
 and she heard a voice say, hesitatingly, "Then you're 
 awake, Bubbles? Somehow I felt you were awake, and 
 I thought you might like a cup of tea." 
 
 It was Bill Donnington, with a lighted candle in one 
 hand, and a cup of tea in the other. 
 
 How glad she was to see him ! How very, very glad ! 
 Yet he only looked his usual sober, unromantic self, stand- 
 ing there at the bottom of her pretty old walnut-wood bed, 
 looking at her with all his wistful, faithful soul in his 
 eyes. 
 
 Bill was fully dressed, and Bubbles burst out laughing, 
 feebly. 
 
 "You are an early bird!" she exclaimed. "And a very 
 proper bird, too. I suppose you thought you mustn't 
 come into my room in a dressing-gown?" 
 
 "I haven't slept all night," he said stiffly. "So I got 
 up an hour ago. I came and looked in here, as a matter 
 of fact, on my way to the bathroom. But you were asleep. 
 And then, after I was dressed, I went down to the kitchen, 
 and made myself a cup of tea. I thought I'd make one 
 for you, too, just on chance." 
 
 He came up close to her, and Bubbles, shaking back 
 her short curly hair, took the cup from him. "This is 
 delicious ! You are a good sort, Bill !" 
 
 He sat down on the end of her bed while she thirstily, 
 greedily, drank the tea he had brought her. In all her 
 gestures there was something bird-like and exquisite. 
 Even when she was greedy Bubbles was dainty too. 
 
 "I do hope you're feeling none the worse" he began. 
 
2i8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 And she mimicked him, gleefully, speaking in a low 
 whisper. "None the worse, thank you! It's a comfort, 
 sometimes, to be with a person who always says exactly 
 what you might expect he would say ! I'm always sure of 
 that comfort with you old thing." 
 
 "Are you?" He smiled his slow, doubtful smile, and 
 Bubbles said suddenly : "You've gone and left the door 
 open." 
 
 He stood up, irresolute. "I suppose I ought to go 
 away," he said hesitatingly. 
 
 She exclaimed: "No, no, Bill! I won't have you go 
 away ! I don't want you to go away ! I want you to stay 
 with me. But you must shut the door, for it's very cold." 
 
 "D'you think I'd better shut the door?" he asked. 
 
 And then Bubbles seized his lean, strong hand. "Oh! 
 I see what you mean!" she exclaimed. "You actually 
 think your being in here is more proper if the door is 
 open? But it isn't a bit for everyone in the house but 
 us two is fast asleep! Still, that won't go on long. So 
 shut the door at once ! I've something very important to 
 say to you something which I certainly don't want Peg- 
 ler to hear me say to you. Pegler may come down any 
 moment she's such a good sort, under that stiff, cross 
 manner. It's so queer she should disapprove of me, and 
 approve of my Aunt Blanche, isn't it?" 
 
 He got up, and going to the door, shut it. 
 
 "Lock it!" she called out. "Lock it, Bill! I don't 
 want to be disturbed;" she repeated in an odd voice, "I've 
 something very important to say to you." 
 
 But this time he did not obey her, and as he came back 
 towards the bed he said anxiously, "D'you still feel very 
 bad, Bubbles?" 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 219 
 
 There was a tone of great tenderness and solicitude 
 in his voice. 
 
 "Of course I do. So would you, if you'd died and 
 come to life again." 
 
 "You didn't do that," he said in a low voice. "But 
 you were very nearly drowned, Bubbles. However, we 
 must try to forget it." 
 
 Again she mimicked him : " 'We must try to forget it.' 
 I was waiting for you to say that, too. As if we should 
 ever forget it ! But we won't think about it just now 
 because we've got to think of something else that's much 
 more to the present purpose." 
 
 "Yes," he said soothingly. "Yes, Bubbles?" 
 
 Poor Bill felt very uncomfortable. He did not wish 
 prim Miss Pegler to come in and find him sitting on 
 Bubbles' bed, when no one was yet up in the house. 
 These modern, unconventional ways were all very well, 
 and he knew they often did not really mean anything, but 
 still but still . . . 
 
 "Did you ever hear of the King's Serf?" asked Bub- 
 bles suddenly. 
 
 "The King's Serf?" he repeated, bewildered. 
 
 "When the rope which was hanging some poor devil 
 of a highwayman broke when the axe was too blunt to 
 cut a robber rascal's head off when a man being con- 
 demned to death survived by some extraordinary accident 
 well, such a man became thereafter the King's Serf. 
 He belonged to the King, body, soul, and spirit, and no 
 one but the King could touch him. He lost his identity. 
 He was above the law !" 
 
 Bubbles said all this very, very fast almost as if she 
 had learnt it off by heart. 
 
220 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "What a curious thing/' said Bill slowly. 
 
 Bubbles had so many queer, out-of-the-way bits of 
 knowledge. She was always surprising him by the things 
 she knew. It was the more curious that she never seemed 
 to open a book. 
 
 "Come a little nearer," she ordered. "You're so far 
 away, Bill!" 
 
 She spoke with a touch of imperious fret fulness, and 
 he moved a little further up the bed. 
 
 "Nearer, nearer!" she cried; and then she suddenly sat 
 up in bed, and flinging her arms round him, she laid her 
 dark, curly head on his faithful heart. "I want to tell 
 you," she whispered, "that from now onward I'm Bill 
 Donnington's Serf much more than that poor brute I've 
 told you of was ever the King's Serf. For, after all, the 
 King hadn't cut the rope, or blunted the edge of the 
 hatchet " 
 
 "Bubbles!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Bubbles, d'you really 
 mean that?" 
 
 "Of course I mean it! What I gave I had, what I 
 gained I lost, what I lost I gained." 
 
 "What do you mean, darling?" he whispered. 
 
 "I mean that the moment that stupid doctor allows me 
 to get up then you and I will skip off by ourselves, and 
 we'll say, 'Hullo, here's a church! Let's go in and get 
 married.' ' 
 
 She waited a moment, but Bill Donnington said noth- 
 ing. He only held her closer to him. 
 
 "In the night," went on Bubbles, "I was wondering if 
 we'd be married in that strange old church near here, 
 our church, the church with the animals. And then I 
 thought no, we wouldn't do that, for I am not likely to 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 221 
 
 want ever to come back here again. So we'll be married in 
 London, in a City church, in the church where John Gilpin 
 and his family went to what I suppose they called 'wor- 
 ship.' It's there you will have to say you worship me, Bill!" 
 
 She lifted her head, and looked into his face. "Oh, 
 Bill," she said, her voice trembling a little, "you do look 
 happy!" 
 
 "I am happy, but I I can't quite believe it," he said 
 slowly; "it's too good to be true." 
 
 "I hope you'll go on being happy," she said, again 
 pressing closer to him. "But you know that sometimes, 
 Bill well, I shall dine at Edmonton while you do dine at 
 Ware. It's no good my trying to conceal that from you." 
 
 "I I don't understand," he stammered out. What did 
 Bubbles mean by saying that? 
 
 "You'll know soon enough," she said, with that little 
 wise look of hers the little look he loved. "But when- 
 ever I'm naughty or unreasonable, or, or selfish, Bill 
 I'm afraid I shall often be very selfish then you must 
 just turn to me, and say: 'You know, Bubbles, when 
 all's said and done, you're my Serf; but for me you 
 wouldn't be here/ " 
 
 Bill Donnington looked at her, and then he said sol- 
 emnly and very deliberately : "I don't feel that you ought 
 to marry me out of gratitude, Bubbles." 
 
 She took her hands off his shoulders, and clapped them 
 gleefully. "I was waiting for that, too!" she exclaimed. 
 "I wonder you didn't say it at once I quite thought you 
 would." 
 
 He said seriously: "But I really mean it. I couldn't 
 bear to think that you married me just because I dragged 
 you out of the water." 
 
222 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "I'm really marrying you, if you want to know/* she 
 exclaimed, "because of Mr. Tapster! During the last 
 few days I wonder if you've noticed it, Bill?" (he had, 
 indeed) "that man has looked at me as if I was his serf 
 that's a polite way of putting it and I don't like it. 
 But I've got a friend you know Phyllis Burley ? I think 
 she'd do for him exactly ! It would be so nice, too, for 
 she's devoted to me, and we should have the use of one 
 of their motors whenever we felt like it." 
 
 Bill shook his head decidedly. "We never should feel 
 like it," he said; "even if Phyllis did marry Mr. Tapster, 
 which I greatly doubt she'd even think of doing." 
 
 "I'm going to tell him to-day," she went on, "that he's 
 got to marry her. There's nothing indelicate about my 
 saying that, because they've never met. But it'll work 
 in his brain, you see if it doesn't, like yeast in new bread! 
 Then I'll bring them together, and then, and then " 
 
 "And then," said Bill deliberately, "you'll never, with 
 my goodwill, see him again. So find him a wife whom 
 you don't like, Bubbles." 
 
 She looked at him meditatively. "Very well," she 
 said. "That will be my first sacrifice for you, Bill. I'll 
 save him up for Violet Purton. She's a horrid girl 
 and won't she make his money fly!" 
 
 He was smiling at her rather oddly. 
 
 "Bill!" she exclaimed, startled. "Bill! I do believe 
 you're going to be master " 
 
 And then she flung her arms again round his neck. 
 "Kiss me," she commanded, "kiss me, Bill. And then 
 you must go away, for it isn't proper that you should be 
 here, at this time of the morning, now that we're 
 engaged !" 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THAT same morning, but a good deal later, Blanche 
 Farrow woke with a start to find Pegler standing 
 at her bedside with just one letter in her hand. 
 
 Pegler was smiling. It was not a real smile, but just 
 a general softening of her plain, severe face. 
 
 Pegler knew that her lady had been rather "put out" 
 at not having received her usual Christmas letter from 
 Mr. Mark Gifford. She had spoken of it twice to Pegler, 
 once lightly, on December 27, and then again, in a rather 
 upset way, on the 29th. After that she had pretended to 
 forget all about it. But Pegler felt sure Miss Farrow 
 did remember often. And now here was the letter a 
 much fatter letter than usual, too. 
 
 Pegler, of course, said nothing. It was not her place 
 to know the hand- writing of any of the gentlemen who 
 wrote to her mistress. 
 
 Miss Farrow took the letter, and there came a faint, 
 a very faint, flush over her face. She said: "I hope 
 Miss Bubbles has had a good night. Have you been in 
 to her yet, Pegler?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. She looks rather excited-like. But as 
 you know, ma'am, that's a good sign with her." 
 
 "Yes, I think it is, Pegler." 
 
 Pegler slipped noiselessly away, and then Blanche 
 opened the envelope containing Mark Gifford's long-de- 
 layed Christmas letter. 
 
 223 
 
224 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Home Office, 
 "December 
 
 "My DEAR BLANCHE, 
 
 " 'How use doth breed a habit in a man !' Well 
 anyhow, as you know, it is my custom, which has now at- 
 tained the dignity of a habit, always to write you a letter 
 for Christmas. Hitherto I have always known where it 
 would find you, but this year is an exception, for I really 
 have no idea where you are. 
 
 "This year is an exception in another respect also. 
 Hitherto, my dear Blanche, I have, with a tact which I 
 hope you have silently appreciated, always managed to 
 keep out of my Christmas letter any reference to what 
 you know I have never given up hoping for even against 
 hope. But this time I can't keep it out because I have 
 had a really good idea. Even a Civil Servant may have 
 a good idea sometimes, and I assure you that this came 
 to me out oi office hours as a matter of fact it came to 
 me when I was sitting in that funny little old Westmin- 
 ster churchyard where we once spent what was, to me, the 
 happiest of half -hours. 
 
 "I know you have thought me unsympathetic and dis- 
 approving about that which holds for you so great a 
 fascination. Disapproving, yes; I can't help disapprov- 
 ing of gambling, especially in a woman; but unsympa- 
 thetic, no a thousand times no. Sympathy is under- 
 standing, and, believe me, I do understand, and therefore 
 I propose this plan. 
 
 "If you will do me the honour of marrying me, I pro- 
 pose that once or even twice every year you should go 
 off to Monte Carlo, or wherever else you like, and play to 
 your heart's content. I promise never to reproach you, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 2251 
 
 above all never to administer those silent reproaches 
 which I think are always the hardest to bear. Yes, I 
 will always play the game, I pledge myself to that most 
 faithfully. 
 
 ''Forgive me for referring to something which makes 
 my plan easier to carry out. This year two accidents, 
 the death of one colleague, and the premature retire- 
 ment of another, have pushed me up the ladder of pro- 
 motion, and, in addition, there has been a legacy. The 
 English of that is that for our joint menage we shouldn't 
 want your income at all; we could quite well do without 
 it, and you would be perfectly free to use it in whatever 
 way you like. 
 
 "There ! That is my plan. Now, dearest of women, 
 say yes and make us both happy, for you would make 
 me so happy that I couldn't help making you happy too. 
 I wish I had any idea where you will be when you read 
 this letter, on which hangs all my hopes. Perhaps you 
 will read it at Monte, out on the Corniche Road. Don't 
 let the fact that you have been lucky at play make me un- 
 lucky in you know what ! 
 
 "Yours ever (this is no figure of speech), 
 
 "MARK GIFFORD." 
 
 Blanche Farrow sighed and smiled, as she deliberately 
 read the long letter through twice. Somehow it warmed 
 her heart ; and yet would she ever be able to give up the 
 life which in many ways suited her so well? If she mar- 
 ried Mark dear, kind, generous-hearted Mark various 
 friendships which, even if they did not mean so much 
 to her as they appeared to do, yet meant a good deal in 
 her present lonely life, would certainly have to be given 
 
226 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 i 
 
 up. To take but one instance. It had almost been an in- 
 stinct with her to keep Lionel Varick and Mark Gifford 
 apart. In the old days she had been disagreeably aware 
 of how absolutely Gifford had always disapproved of 
 Varick, and of Varick's various ways of trying, often 
 successfully, to raise the wind. Of course, everything 
 was now different with regard to this particular friend. 
 Varick had become by what anyone not a hypocrite 
 must admit had been a fortunate circumstance a re- 
 spectable member of society; but, even so, she knew, deep 
 in her heart, that he and the man whose letter she held 
 in her hand would never like one another. 
 
 And yet she was tired so tired! of the sort of life 
 she led, year in and year out. Her nerves were no longer* 
 what they had once been. For instance, the strange series 
 of happenings that had just taken place here, at Wynd- 
 fell Hall, had thoroughly upset her; and as for the hor- 
 rible thing that had occurred yesterday, she hadn't been 
 able to sleep all night for thinking of it. Nothing that 
 had ever happened in her now long life had had quite 
 the effect on Blanche Farrow that Bubbles' accident had 
 had. She had realized, suddenly, how fond she was of 
 the girl how strong in all of us is the call of the blood! 
 As she had stood watching Dr. Panton's untiring efforts 
 to restore the circulation of the apparently drowned girl 
 there had gone up from Blanche's heart a wild, instinctive 
 prayer to the God in whom she did not believe, to spare 
 the child. 
 
 Perhaps just because she had not broken down be- 
 fore, she felt the more now all that had happened in 
 the way of the strange, the sinister, and the untoward 
 during the last fortnight. And all at once, after reading 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 227 
 
 yet again right through the quiet, measured letter of her 
 old friend and constant lover, Blanche Farrow suddenly 
 burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 And then it struck her as funny, as even absurd, that 
 she should cry like this ! She hadn't cried for years and 
 years in fact, she could hardly remember the day when 
 she had last cried. 
 
 She jumped out of bed and put on her dressing-gown, 
 for it was very cold, and then she went and gazed at her 
 reflection in the one looking-glass in the room. It was a 
 beautiful old Jacobean mirror fixed over the dressing- 
 table. 
 
 Heavens ! What a fright she looked ! Do tears always 
 have that disfiguring effect on a woman? This must be 
 a lesson to her. She dabbed her eyes with a wet handker- 
 chief, and then she went over to the writing-table and sat 
 down. 
 
 For the first time in her life Blanche Farrow wrote 
 Mark Gifford a really grateful, sincere letter. She said, 
 truly, how touched she was by his long devotion and by 
 all his goodness to her. She admitted, humbly, that she 
 wished she were worthy of it all. But she finally added 
 that she feared she could never find it in her heart and 
 conscience to say that she would do what he wished. She 
 had become too old, too set in her ways. . . . 
 
 Yet it was with a heavy heart that she wrote her long 
 letter in answer to his, and it took her a long time, for she 
 often waited a few moments in between the sentences. 
 
 How strange was her relationship to this man of whom 
 she saw so little, and yet with whom she felt on close, 
 intangible terms of intimacy ! His work tied him to Lon- 
 don, and of late years she had not been much in London. 
 
228 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 He knew very little of her movements. Why, this very 
 letter had been sent to her, care of her London club, the 
 club which had its uses principally when she wanted 
 to entertain Mark Gifford himself to lunch or dinner. 
 
 His letter had wandered to yet another address an 
 address she had left at the club weeks ago, the only ad- 
 dress they had. From thence it had reached the last house 
 where she had been staying before she had come to Wynd- 
 fell Hall. The wonderful thing was that the letter had 
 reached her at all. But she was very glad it had come, 
 if only at long last. 
 
 After her letter was finished, she suddenly felt that 
 she must put in a word to account for the delay in her 
 answer to what should have received an immediate reply. 
 And so she added a postscript, which, unlike most 
 women's postscripts, was of really very little importance 
 or so the writer thought. 
 
 This unimportant postscript ran: 
 
 "Your letter had followed me round to about half-a- 
 dozen places. Bubbles Dunster and I have been spending 
 Christmas in this wonderful old house, Wyndfell Hall, 
 our host being Lionel Varick. He struck oil in the shape 
 of an heiress two years ago. She died last year; and he 
 has become a most respectable member of society. I 
 know you didn't much like him, though he's often spoken 
 to me very gratefully of the good turn you did him 
 years ago." 
 
 Blanche hesitated, pen in hand. Of course, it was not 
 necessary that she should mention the name of her host. 
 She might rewrite the last page of her letter, and leave 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 229 
 
 the postscript out It was unfortunately true that Mark 
 had taken a violent prejudice against the man he had 
 befriended to such good purpose years and years ago. 
 She had been still young then young and, as she was 
 quite willing to admit now, very foolish. In fact, she 
 looked back to the Blanche Farrow of those days, as we 
 are sometimes apt to look back at our younger selves, 
 with amazement and disapproval, rather than sympathy. 
 But there was a streak of valiant honesty in her na- 
 ture. She let what had been written stand, only adding 
 the words : 
 
 "The party is breaking up to-morrow; but Bubbles, 
 who had a disagreeable accident yesterday, will stay on 
 here for a few days with me. All the same, I expect we 
 shall be in London by the ninth; and then, perhaps, you 
 
 and I might meet." 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was by Bubbles' special wish nay, command, that 
 her engagement to Bill Donnington was publicly an- 
 nounced that very morning, at breakfast, by her aunt. 
 Everyone was much interested, and said the usual good- 
 natured, rather silly, civil things ; hence Blanche was glad 
 Bill Donnington had breakfasted early, and so was not 
 there. 
 
 Helen Brabazon was extremely excited and delighted 
 at the news. "I suppose it happened yesterday morning!" 
 she exclaimed. "For, of course, they haven't seen one 
 another alone since then. If they were already engaged, 
 what awful agony poor Mr. Donnington must have gone 
 through while you were trying to bring her to life again?" 
 
 She turned to Panton, and he answered thoughtfully, 
 
230 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "I could see he was most terribly upset. Don't you re- 
 member how he refused to go up to the house and change 
 his wet clothes?" 
 
 Blanche couldn't help glancing furtively from behind 
 the teapot and high silver urn at James Tapster. His 
 phlegmatic face had become very red. Almost at once 
 he had got up and gone over to the dresser, and there, 
 taking a long time about it, he had cut himself some slices 
 of ham. She noticed, with relief, that he came back with 
 a huge plateful, which he proceeded to eat with apparent 
 appetite. 
 
 "And when is the wedding to take place ?" asked Helen. 
 
 "Almost at once," replied Blanche smiling. "Bubbles 
 never does anything like anybody else! She's set her 
 heart on going to town the very moment Dr. Panton al- 
 lows her to get up. Then they're to be married without 
 any fuss at all in one of the old City churches." 
 
 "What a splendid idea!" cried Helen. "That's just 
 how / should like to be married." 
 
 "I, too," said Sir Lyon, in his pleasant voice. "To me 
 there's always been something barbaric in the ordinary 
 grand wedding." 
 
 But Blanche Farrow shook her head. "Perhaps be- 
 cause I'm so much older than all of you," she said good- 
 humouredly, "I think there's a great deal to be said for 
 an old-fashioned wedding: white dress (white satin for 
 choice), orange blossoms, St. George's, Hanover Square, 
 and all ! I even like the crowd of people saying kind and 
 unkind things in whispers to one another. I don't think 
 I should feel myself married unless I went through all 
 that -" 
 
 And then, at last, James Tapster said something. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 231 
 
 "Marriage is all rot!" he said, speaking, as was his un- 
 pleasant custom, with his mouth full. "There are very 
 few happy married couples about." 
 
 "That may be your experience," said Varick, speaking 
 for the first time since Blanche had told the great news. 
 "I'm glad to say it isn't mine. I think marriage far the 
 happiest state for either a man or a woman." 
 
 He spoke with a good deal of feeling, and both Pan- 
 ton and Helen Brabazon felt very much touched. He had 
 certainly made his marriage a success. 
 
 Meanwhile, Blanche suspected that Dr. Panton had 
 just had a letter containing disturbing news. She saw 
 him read it twice over. Then he put it carefully in a 
 note-book he took out of his pocket. "I shall have to go 
 to-morrow, a day earlier than I thought," he observed. 
 "I've got an appointment in town on Thursday morning." 
 
 Then Mr. Tapster announced that he was going to- 
 day, and though Varick seemed genuinely sorry, every- 
 one else was secretly glad. 
 
 There are days in life which pass by without being dis- 
 tinguished by any outstanding happenings, and which yet 
 remain in the mind as milestones on the road of life. 
 
 Such a day, at any rate to Blanche Farrow, was the 
 day which saw the first disruption of Lionel Varick's 
 Christmas house party. Though Mr. Tapster was the 
 only guest actually to leave Wyndfell Hall, all the ar- 
 rangements concerning the departures of the morrow had 
 to be made. Miss Burnaby, Helen Brabazon, and Sir 
 Lyon Dilsford were to travel together. Dr. Panton was 
 going by a later train, as was also Bill Donnington. 
 Blanche herself, with of course Bubbles, was leaving on 
 the Saturday. 
 
232 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 As the day went on Blanche realized that Varick much 
 desired that Helen Brabazon should also stay on till Sat- 
 urday. But she, Blanche, thought this desire unreason- 
 able. Though she had come to like her, she found the 
 good, thoughtful, conscientious, and yet simple-minded 
 Helen "heavy in hand"; she told herself that if Helen 
 stayed on, the entertaining of the girl would fall on her, 
 especially if, as Dr. Panton insisted, Bubbles must not 
 get up till Friday at dinner-time. 
 
 Looking back, Blanche Farrow told herself that that 
 day had been full of curious premonitions. Yet it had 
 opened, in a sense happily for her, with the coming of 
 Mark Gifford's quaint, characteristic letter. Then had 
 come the shock, and it had been a shock, of Bubbles' en- 
 gagement, and of the girl's insistence on its being an- 
 nounced to the rest of the house party at once at 
 breakfast. 
 
 The only outstanding thing which happened, and it was 
 indeed a small thing compared to the other two, was the 
 departure of James Tapster. Blanche felt sorry for him 
 genuinely sorry. But she philosophically told herself 
 that no amount of money, even had Bill Donnington never 
 existed, could have made Bubbles even tolerably happy 
 tied to such a man. 
 
 After Mr. Tapster had gone they all breathed the more 
 freely. Yet Blanche somehow did not feel comfortable. 
 What was wrong, for instance, with Lionel Varick? He 
 looked ill at ease, as well as ill physically. Something 
 seemed also to be weighing on Dr. Panton's mind. Even 
 Sir Lyon Dilsford wag unlike his pleasant easy self. But 
 Blanche thought she knew what ailed him, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 233 
 
 Her only sheet anchor of comfort during that long, dull 
 afternoon and evening was the thought that Bubbles' life 
 was set on the right lines at last . . . and that Mark 
 Gifford had not changed. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 HONBLE. BLANCHE FARROW Wyndfell Hall 
 Darnaston Suffolk Very private Meet me 
 outside Darnaston Church at twelve o'clock, midday, to- 
 morrow, Wednesday MARK GIFFORD." 
 
 Blanche sat up in bed and stared down at the telegraph 
 form. What on earth did this mean? But for the fact 
 that she knew it to be out of the question, she would have 
 suspected a foolish and vulgar practical joke. 
 
 She noted that the telegram had been sent off at 9.30 
 the night before (just after Mark must have received her 
 letter). She also saw that it had been inscribed for 
 morning delivery. That was like Mark Gifford. He was 
 nothing if not careful and precise with regard to every- 
 thing of a business kind. 
 
 Then she began asking herself the sort of rather futile 
 questions people do ask themselves, when puzzled, and 
 made uneasy by what seems an inexplicable occurrence. 
 How would Mark get to Darnaston by twelve o'clock to- 
 day? Surely he could only do so by starting before it 
 was light, and motoring the whole way from London? 
 
 She gazed at the words "very private." What did they 
 portend ? Quickly she examined her conscience. No, she 
 had done nothing nothing which could have brought her 
 into contact, even slightly, with the law. Of course, she 
 was well aware that Mark had never forgotten, even over 
 
 234 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 235 
 
 all these years, the dreadful scrape into which she had 
 got herself by going to those gambling parties in the pleas- 
 ant, quiet, Jermyn Street flat where she and Varick had 
 first become acquainted. But that had been a sharp les- 
 son, and one by which she had profited. 
 
 She next took a rapid mental survey of her family, all 
 so much more respectable and prosperous than herself. 
 The only person among them capable of getting into any 
 real scrape was poor little Bubbles. 
 
 Bubbles was now practically well again. She had writ- 
 ten out the announcement which was to appear in the 
 Times and the Morning Post, and had insisted on its 
 being sent off. 
 
 Donnington had been somewhat perturbed by the 
 thought of their engagement being thus at once made pub- 
 lic. But Bubbles had observed cheerfully : "Once people 
 know about it, I shan't be able to get out of it, even if I 
 want to!" To that Bill had said, sorely, that if she 
 wanted to give him the chuck she should of course do so, 
 even on the altar steps. Bubbles had laughed at that and 
 exclaimed: "I only said it to tease you, old thing! The 
 real truth is that I want father to understand that I 
 really mean it that's all. He reads the Times right 
 through every day, and he'll think it true if he sees it 
 there. As for his tiresome widow, she'll see it in the 
 Morning Post and then she'll believe it, too!" 
 
 Blanche Farrow told herself that this mysterious and 
 extraordinary message might have something to do with 
 Bubbles; and as she got up, she went on thinking with 
 increasing unease of the unexpected assignation which 
 lay before her. 
 
 It was a comfort to feel that that disagreeable man, 
 
236 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 James Tapster, was gone, and that the rest of the party, 
 with the exception of herself and Bubbles, were going 
 to-day. 
 
 Something had again been said about Miss Burnaby 
 and her niece staying on, and she had heard Varick press- 
 ing them earnestly to do so; but the old lady had been 
 unwilling to break her plan, the more so that she had an 
 appointment with her dentist. Then Varick had asked 
 why Miss Brabazon shouldn't stay on till Saturday? 
 There had been a considerable discussion about it; but 
 Blanche secretly hoped they would all go away. She felt 
 tired and unlike herself. The events of the last few days 
 had shaken her badly. 
 
 What an extraordinary difference a few moments can 
 make in one's outlook on life! Blanche Farrow was un- 
 comfortably aware that she would never forget what had 
 happened to her on New Year's Eve. That strange and 
 fearful experience had obliterated some of her clearest 
 mental landmarks. She wished to think, she tried very 
 hard to think, that in some mysterious way the vision she 
 had seen with such terrible distinctness had been a projec- 
 tion from Bubbles' brain Bubbles' uncanny gift working, 
 perchance, on Lionel Varick's mind and memory. She 
 could not doubt that the two wraiths she had seen so 
 clearly purported to be a survival of the human personali- 
 ties of the two women who each had borne Varick's 
 name, and had been, for a while, so closely linked with 
 him. . . . 
 
 Yet long ago, when quite a young woman, she had 
 come to the deliberate conclusion that there was no such 
 survival of human personality. 
 
 Taking up Mark Gifford's mysterious telegram, and 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 237 
 
 one or two unimportant letters she had just received, 
 she went downstairs, to see, as she came into the dining- 
 room, that only Varick was already down. 
 
 He looked up, and she was shocked to see how ill and 
 strained he looked. He had taken poor little Bubbles' 
 accident terribly to heart; Blanche knew he had a feeling 
 which was rather absurd, after all, that he in some 
 way could have prevented it. 
 
 But as he saw her come in his face lightened, and she 
 felt touched. Poor Lionel ! He was certainly very, very- 
 fond of her. 
 
 "I do hope Helen Brabazon will stay on with you and 
 Bubbles/' he said eagerly. "I think I've nearly per- 
 suaded Miss Burnaby to let her do so. Do say a word to 
 her, Blanche?" 
 
 "I will, if you like. But in that case, hadn't we better 
 ask Sir Lyon to stay on, too?" 
 
 "Dilsford!" he exclaimed. "Why on earth should we 
 think of doing that?" 
 
 Blanche smiled. "Where are your eyes?" she asked. 
 "Sir Lyon's head over heels in love with Helen Brabazon; 
 and I've been wondering these last few days whether that 
 quiet, demure girl is quite as unconscious of his state as 
 she pretends to be !" 
 
 And then, as she began pouring out a cup of tea for 
 the man who was now looking at her with a dismayed, 
 surprised expression on his face, she went on composedly : 
 "It would be rather amusing if two engagements were to 
 come out of your house-party, Lionel wouldn't it?" 
 
 But he answered at once, in a harsh, decided tone, "I 
 think you're quite mistaken, Blanche. Why, they've 
 hardly exchanged two words together." 
 
2 3 8 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Blanche put down the tea-pot. She began to laugh 
 she really couldn't help it. "You must have been deaf as 
 well as blind!" she exclaimed. "They've been together 
 perpetually ! I admit that that's been his doing not hers. 
 For days past I've seen right into his mind seen, I mean, 
 the struggle that has been taking place between his pride 
 and yes, the extraordinary attraction that girl seems to 
 have for him. He's no fortune-hunter, you know; also, 
 he wants so little, the lucky man, that I think her money 
 would be a positive bother to him." 
 
 Lionel Varick stared at Blanche Farrow. She had a 
 way of being right about worldly matters the triumph 
 of experience over hope, as she had once observed cyn- 
 ically. But this time he felt sure she was wrong. 
 
 The feminine interest in a possible, probable, or even 
 improbable love-affair always surprises the average man 
 ' surprises, and sometimes annoys him very much. 
 
 "Do you go so far as to say she returns this this feel- 
 ing you attribute to him?" he asked abruptly. He was 
 relieved to see Blanche shake her head. 
 
 "No; I can't say that I've detected any response on her 
 part," she said lightly. "But she's very old-fashioned 
 and reserved. She certainly enjoys Sir Lyon's rather dull 
 conversation, and she likes cross-examining him about the 
 life of the poor. She's a very good girl," went on Blanche 
 musingly. "She's a tremendous sense of duty. One can 
 never tell but no, I don't think the idea that Sir Lyon's 
 in love with her has yet crossed her mind ! And I should 
 say that she really prefers you to him. She has a tre- 
 mendous opinion of you, Lionel. I wonder why?" 
 
 He laughed aloud, for the first time since Bubbles' ao 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 239 
 
 cident. He knew that what Blanche said was true, and 
 it was a very pleasant, reassuring bit of knowledge. 
 
 "Old Burnaby would not think of allowing her to 
 marry a penniless baronet/' he said smiling. 
 
 Blanche looked across at him quickly. "Good and 
 obedient as she is to both those old things, I don't think 
 they'd be able to influence Helen Brabazon in such a thing 
 as marriage." 
 
 "Well, you may be right," said Varick, doubtfully. 
 
 He felt strongly tempted to take Blanche into his con- 
 fidence; to tell her, frankly, that he wished to marry 
 Helen. Yet some obscure instinct held him back. 
 Women, even the most sensible women, are so damned 
 sentimental! So he told himself. Lately he had had the 
 unpleasant, disconcerting feeling that whenever Helen 
 looked at him she thought of "poor Milly." 
 
 "Still, I don't envy Sir Lyon his wooing," went on 
 Blanche. "Helen is a girl who'll take a long time to make 
 up her mind, and who will weigh all the pros and cons." 
 
 "Then you don't think," said Varick in a low tone, 
 "that she would ever be swept off her feet?" 
 
 At one time he had felt sure she would be. 
 
 "By a grand passion? My dear Lionel, what an ab- 
 surd idea ! But hush " 
 
 The door opened, and the object of their discussion 
 came in. Helen Brabazon always looked especially well 
 as breakfast. Il was her hour. 
 
 How's Bubbles this morning?" she asked. 
 
 And Blanche felt rather guilty. She hadn't been into 
 Bubbles' room; her mind had been too full of other 
 things. "She's going on very well," she answered com- 
 posedly. "I think she might get up to-morrow, in spite 
 
240 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 of Dr. Panton." And then, for she felt Varick was 
 "willing" her to say it: "I do hope that you are going 
 to stay on till Saturday, even if your aunt has to go 
 away this afternoon." 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, and the colour deepened a little in 
 her cheeks. "Yes, I've persuaded Auntie to let me stay 
 on till you and Bubbles come up to London. It's only 
 two days, after all." 
 
 "I am glad." There was a genuine thrill of satisfaction 
 in Varick's voice. This meant that he and the girl would 
 be practically alone together all to-morrow and Friday. 
 
 "I think Sir Lyon could manage to stay on too, if you 
 ask him." Helen smiled guilelessly at her host. "I saw 
 him just now. He and Dr. Panton were taking Span 
 round to the kitchen, and when I said I was staying on, 
 Sir Lyon said he thought he could stay on too, just till 
 Saturday morning." 
 
 Blanche could not forbear giving a covert glance of 
 triumph at Varick's surprised and annoyed face. "Of 
 course," she said quickly, "we shall be delighted to have 
 Sir Lyon a little longer. I thought by what he said that 
 he was absolutely obliged to go away to-day, by the same 
 train as you and Miss Burnaby." 
 
 "He certainly said so," observed Varick coldly. 
 
 And then, for Blanche Farrow was above all things a 
 woman of the world, when the other two men came in 
 she made everything quite easy for Sir Lyon, pressing 
 him to stay on, as if she had only just thought of it. But 
 she noticed, with covert amusement, that he was very 
 unlike his usual cool, collected self. He actually looked 
 sheepish yes, that was the only word for it! Also, he 
 made rather a favour of staying. "I shall have to tele- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 241 
 
 graph," he said; "for I'd made all my arrangements to 
 go back this afternoon." 
 
 "As for me," said Dr. Panton, "I must leave this after- 
 noon, worse luck ! But there it is." He turned to Varick. 
 "I've got an appointment in London to-morrow morning 
 one I can't put off." 
 
 Donnington came in at last. He looked radiant in- 
 deed, his look of happiness was in curious contrast to the 
 lowering expression which now clouded Varick's face. 
 
 "Bubbles is nearly well again !" he cried joyfully. "She 
 says she'll get up to-morrow, doctor or no doctor !" He 
 looked at Panton; then, turning to Blanche, in a lower 
 tone : "Also, she's shown me the most wonderful letter 
 from her father, written to her before Christmas. I 
 always thought he disliked me : but he liked me from the 
 very first time we met isn't that strange?" 
 
 "Very strange," said Blanche, smiling. 
 
 They all scattered after breakfast, but Miss Farrow 
 noticed that Varick made a determined and successful at- 
 tempt to carry off Helen Brabazon from Sir Lyon, who 
 had obviously been lying in wait for her. 
 
 "What dogs in the manger men are !" she said to her- 
 self. And then she remembered, with a little gasp of 
 dismay, her mysterious appointment with Mark Gifford. 
 She knew him well enough to be sure that he would be in 
 good time ; but, even so, there was more than an hour to 
 be got through somehow before she could start for 
 Darnaston. 
 
 She went up to Bubbles' room. Yes, the girl looked 
 marvellously better younger too, quite different! 
 
 There came a knock at the door while she was there, 
 and Donnington came in. 
 
242 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "If you'd been wise/' said Bubbles, looking up at him, 
 "you'd have made up to Helen Brabazon, Bill. She's like 
 an apple, just ready to fall off the tree." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Blanche. 
 
 "Just what I say. She's tremendously in love with 
 love!" 
 
 "D'you really think so?" 
 
 (If so, Sir Lyon's task would be an easy one.) 
 
 "I know it," said Bubbles positively. "I've made a 
 close study of that girl. I confess I didn't like her at 
 first, and I will tell you why, though I know it will shock 
 Bill." 
 
 "I've always liked Miss Brabazon," he said stoutly, 
 "why didn't you like her, Bubbles ?" 
 
 "Because when she arrived here I saw that she was in " 
 love with Lionel Varick." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense," said her aunt reprovingly. 
 "You know I don't like that sort of joking." 
 
 And as for Bill, he turned and walked towards the 
 door. "I've got some letters to write," he said crossly. 
 
 "Don't go away, Bill. It isn't a joke, Blanche and 
 I'm going really to shock you now unless, of course, 
 you're only pretending to be shocked?" 
 
 "What d'you mean?" said Blanche. 
 
 "I think Hden fell in love with Lionel Varick before 
 his wife died." 
 
 Bill said sharply: "I won't have you say such dis- 
 gusting things, Bubbles!" And he did indeed look dis- 
 gusted. 
 
 "What a queer mind you've got," said Bubbles reprov- 
 ingly. "I mean, of course, in quite a proper way; that is, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 243 
 
 without the poor girl knowing anything about it. But I 
 thing he knew it right enough." 
 
 Blanche remained silent. Bubbles' words were making 
 her feel curiously uneasy. They threw a light on certain 
 things which had puzzled her. 
 
 "Lionel Varick marked her down long ago/' went on 
 Bubbles slowly. "On the evening that she arrived I saw 
 that he had quite made up his mind to marry her. But 
 as the days went on I began to hope that he wouldn't suc- 
 ceed." She uttered these last words very, very seriously. 
 
 Her aunt looked at her, surprised at the feeling she 
 threw into her voice. As for Donnington, he was staring 
 at her dumbly and, yes, angrily. At last he said : "And 
 why shouldn't Varick marry her, if they both like one 
 another?" 
 
 "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell you. 
 You're too stupid and too good to understand." 
 
 Donnington felt very much put out. He did not mind 
 being called stupid, but what on earth did Bubbles mean 
 by saying he was too good ? 
 
 "I'm sure Lionel's dead wife has been haunting 
 Helen," went on Bubbles rapidly, "quite, quite sure of it. 
 And I'm glad she has! I should be sorry for any nice 
 girl for any woman, even a horrid woman to marry 
 Lionel Varick. There ! I've said my say, and now I shall 
 for ever hold my peace." 
 
 They both stared at her, astonished by the passion and 
 energy with which she uttered the curious words. 
 
 Bill looked down at the girl, and, though he felt hurt 
 and angry with her, his heart suddenly softened. Bub- 
 bles looked very frail and tired lying there. 
 
244 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Bill," she said, "come here," and he came, though not 
 very willingly, closer to her. 
 
 She pulled him down. "I only want to tell you that I 
 love you," she whispered, and his anger, his irritation, 
 vanished like snow in the sun. 
 
 Blanche was already at the door. She turned round. 
 "Well, I must be off now to see the chef, and to make all 
 sorts of arrangements. Sir Lyon is staying on rather 
 unlike him to change his mind, but he's done so at the 
 last moment." 
 
 "I wish / could get a few more days' holiday," said 
 Bill ruefully. "My number's up this afternoon." 
 
 The letters he had to write could go to blazes of 
 course he meant to spend each of the precious minutes 
 that remained in the next few hours with Bubbles ! 
 
 "You'll be able to escort old Miss Burnaby to town, for 
 Helen's staying on," went on Blanche. 
 
 "Helen staying on?" exclaimed Bubbles. "I'm glad of 
 that! Oh, and Sir Lyon's staying on, too?" 
 
 She suddenly gave one of her funny, eerie little 
 chuckles ; but she made no other comment. 
 
 "Yes," called out Blanche. "And Dr. Panton's going 
 so I've a good many little things to see to." 
 
 Bill sprang to the door, and opened it for her. 
 
 As it shut she heard Bubbles' voice, and it was a voice 
 Blanche Farrow hardly knew. "Are you really sorry 
 you're going away from your little kid, Bill ?" 
 
 Blanche sighed sharply. After all, so she told herself, 
 there is something to be said for love's young dream. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 IP marked ten minutes to twelve on the tower of the 
 ancient chantry church of Darnaston as Blanche 
 Farrow walked across the village green arid past the 
 group of thatched cottages composing the pretty hamlet 
 which looks so small compared with its noble house of 
 God. But, though she was early, the man she was to 
 meet was evidently already there, for a big, mud-stained 
 motor-car was drawn up in the lane which runs to the 
 left of the church. 
 
 Feeling more and more apprehensive, she knew not of 
 what, she walked up the path between the graves, and 
 then suddenly she saw Mark Gifford his spare, still 
 active-looking figure framed in the stone porch, his plain, 
 but pleasant, intelligent-looking face full of a grave wel- 
 come. 
 
 He stepped out of the porch and gripped her hand in 
 silence. 
 
 She felt that he was deeply stirred, stirred as she had 
 never known him to be excepting, perhaps, on that oc- 
 casion, years and years ago, when he had first asked her 
 to be his wife. 
 
 Still holding her hand in that strong grasp, he drew 
 her within the porch. "I'm so grateful to you for having 
 come," he said. "I hope you didn't think what I did very 
 odd?" 
 
 "I did think it just a little odd." 
 
 245 
 
246 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 She was trying to smile to be her usual composed self. 
 
 "I couldn't come to Wyndfell Hall," he said abruptly, 
 "for a reason which you will soon know. But I had to 
 see you, and, by a bit of luck, I suddenly remembered 
 this splendid old church. I passed by here once on a 
 walking tour, years and years ago. It's the sort of place 
 people come a long way to see; so, if we are found here 
 together well, we might have met by accident." 
 
 "As it is, we have met by appointment," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 She was feeling more and more frightened. Mark 
 now looked so set, so grim. 
 
 "Would you rather stay out here," he asked, "or shall 
 we go into the church ?" 
 
 "I'd rather stay out here. What is it, Mark? Don't 
 keep me in suspense." 
 
 They were standing, facing one another ; he had let go 
 her hand at last. 
 
 "What I've come to tell you will give you, I fear, a 
 great shock," he began slowly, "for it concerns someone 
 to whom I believe you to be deeply attached." 
 
 He looked away from her for the first time. 
 
 "Then it is Bubbles !" she cried, dismayed. "What on 
 earth has the child done?" 
 
 He turned and again looked into her face, now full 
 of a deeply troubled, questioning anxiety. "Bubbles Dun- 
 ster?" he exclaimed. "Good heavens, no! It's nothing 
 to do with Bubbles." 
 
 A look of uncontrollable relief came over her eyes and 
 mouth. 
 
 "Who is it, Mark? You credit me with a warmer 
 heart than I possess " 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 247 
 
 But he remained silent, and she said quickly : "Come ! 
 Who is it, Mark?" 
 
 "Can't you guess?" he asked harshly. And, as she 
 shook her head, he added, in a slow, reluctant tone : "I've 
 always supposed you to be really attached to Lionel 
 Varick." 
 
 Lionel ? That was the last name she expected to hear ! 
 
 "I don't know exactly what you mean by 'attached,' 
 Mark," she said coldly. "But yes, I've always been fond 
 of him in a way I suppose you might call it 'attached' 
 since that horrid affair, years ago, when you were so kind 
 both to him and to me." 
 
 "Don't couple yourself with him," he said sternly, "if, 
 as I gather, you don't really care for him, Blanche." And 
 then, almost inaudibly, he added : "You don't know the 
 tortures of jealousy I've suffered at the thought of you 
 and that man/' 
 
 "Tortures of jealousy?" she repeated, astonished, and 
 rather touched. "Oh, Mark poor Mark! Why didn't 
 you ask me ? I've never, never cared for him in in that 
 sort of way. How could you think I did?" 
 
 "Yet you're here, in his house," he said, "acting (so 
 you said in your letter) as hostess to his guests? And 
 surely you've always been on terms of what most people 
 would call close friendship with him ?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose I have" she hesitated "in a way. 
 I've always felt that, like me, he hadn't many real friends. 
 And, of course, in old days, ages ago, he was very fond 
 of me," she smiled. "That always pleases a woman, 
 Mark." 
 
 "Does it?" he asked, probingly; and as only answer 
 she reddened slightly. 
 
248 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 There came a little pause, and then Blanche exclaimed : 
 
 "I'm sorry, very sorry r if he's got into a new scrape, 
 Mark; and I'm surprised too. Some two years ago he 
 married a rich woman; she died not long after their mar- 
 riage, but she was devoted to him, and he's quite well 
 off now." 
 
 "Did you know her?" asked Mark Gifford, in a sin- 
 gular tone. 
 
 "No, I never came across her. I was away in Por- 
 tugal, I think. He wrote and told me about his marriage, 
 and then, later, when his wife fell ill, he wrote again. He 
 was extremely good to her, Mark." 
 
 "D'you know much about Varick's early life?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I think I know all there is to know," she answered. 
 
 What was Mark getting at ? What had Lionel Varick 
 done ? Her mind was already busily intent on the thought 
 of how disagreeable it would be to have to warn him of 
 impending unpleasantness. 
 
 It was good of Mark to have taken all this trouble! 
 Of course, he had taken it for her sake, and she felt very 
 grateful and still a little frightened; he looked so un- 
 usually grave. 
 
 "What do you know of Varick's early life?" he per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "I don't think there's very much to know," she an- 
 swered uneasily. "His father had a place in Yorkshire, 
 and got involved in some foolish, wild speculations. In 
 the end the man went bankrupt, everything was sold up, 
 and they were very poor for a while horribly poor, I be- 
 lieve. Then the elder Varick died, and his widow and 
 Lionel went and lived at Bedford. I gather Lionel's 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 249 
 
 mother was clever, proud, and quarrelsome. At any rate, 
 she quarrelled with her people, and he had a very lonely 
 boyhood and youth." 
 
 "Then you know very little of how Varick lived be- 
 fore you yourself met him? How old would he have 
 been then, Blanche?" 
 
 "I should think four or five-and-twenty," she said hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 "I suppose," and then Mark Gifford looked at her with 
 a troubled, hesitating look, "I suppose, Blanche I fear 
 I'm going to surprise you that you were not aware that 
 he'd been married before?" 
 
 "Yes," she said eagerly, "I did know that, Mark." 
 
 What on earth was he driving at? That woman, 
 Lionel Varick's first wife, was surely dead? She, 
 Blanche, had had, by a curious accident, someone else's 
 word for that. And then there rose before her the 
 vision of a ghastly-looking, wild, handsome face; quickly 
 she put it from her, and went on: "He married, when 
 he was only nineteen, a girl out of his own class. They 
 separated for a while; then they seem to have come to- 
 gether again, and, fortunately for Lionel, she died." 
 
 "She died murdered poisoned." 
 
 Mark Gifford uttered the dread words very quietly. 
 "Almost certainly poisoned by her husband, Lionel 
 Varick." 
 
 A mist came over Blanche Farrow's eyes. She turned 
 suddenly sick and faint. 
 
 She put out her hand blindly. Gifford took it, and 
 made her sit down on a stone bench. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said feelingly, "very, very sorry to have 
 had to tell you this dreadful thing, Blanche." 
 
250 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Never mind/' she muttered. "Go on, Mark, if there's 
 anything else to say go on." 
 
 As he remained silent for a moment, she asked, in a 
 dull, tired tone : "But if this awful thing is true, how was 
 it found out, after so many years?" 
 
 "It's a peculiar story," he answered reluctantly. "The 
 late I might say the last Mrs. Varick, whose name, as 
 you of course know, was Millicent Fauncey, had first as 
 governess, and then as companion, an elderly woman 
 called by the extraordinary name of Pigchalke. This 
 Julia Pigchalke seemed to have hated Varick from the 
 first. She violently disapproved of the engagement, quar- 
 relled with Miss Fauncey about it, and the two women 
 never met after the marriage. But Miss Pigchalke evi- 
 dently cared deeply for poor Mrs. Varick; I've seen her, 
 and convinced myself of that." 
 
 "What is she like?" asked Blanche suddenly. 
 
 "Well, she's not attractive! A stout, stumpy, grey- 
 haired woman, with a very red face." 
 
 Blanche covered her eyes with her hands. "Go on," 
 she said again, "go on, Mark, with what you were 
 saying." 
 
 "Where was I ? Oh, I know now ! When Mrs. Varick 
 died, within less than a year of her marriage, Miss Pig- 
 chalke suspected foul play, and she deliberately set her- 
 self to track Lionel Varick down. She made it her busi- 
 ness to find out everything about him, and but for her I 
 think we may take it that he would have gone on to the 
 end of the chapter a respectable, and in time highly re- 
 spected, member of society." 
 
 There was a pause. Blanche was staring before her, 
 listening. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 251 
 
 "About five weeks ago,'* went on Mark Gifford 
 quietly, "Miss Pigchalke got into touch with the head of 
 our Criminal Investigation Department. She put before 
 him certain one can hardly call them facts but certain 
 discoveries she had made, which led to the body of the 
 first Mrs. Varick being exhumed." Blanche Farrow ut- 
 tered a stifled exclamation of surprise, and Gifford went 
 on: "I may add that Miss Pigchalke behaved with re- 
 markable cunning and intelligence. She found out that 
 the doctor at Redsands the place where her poor friend 
 died was a firm friend of Varick's. She thinks him 
 an accomplice, but of course we regard. that as nonsense, 
 for we've found out all about the man, and he is coming 
 to see our toxological expert to-morrow." 
 
 (Then that was Dr. Panton's urgent appointment" in 
 town. ) 
 
 "And now, Blanche, comes the curious part of the 
 story! The doctor who had attended the first Mrs. 
 Varick years and years ago had suspected foul play. 
 He's a very old man now, and he retired many years 
 ago, but he happened to come across an advertisement 
 which Miss Pigchalke put into one of the Sunday papers 
 asking for information concerning Lionel Varick's past 
 life. He answered the advertisement, with the result 
 that his one-time patient was exhumed. It was then 
 found beyond doubt that the woman had been poisoned; 
 and a few days ago the second Mrs. Varick's body was 
 exhumed." 
 
 Blanche looked up, and in answer to her haggard 
 look, he said: "Though perhaps I oughtn't to tell you 
 so, there isn't a shadow of doubt that she also was foully 
 done to death, and rather more intelligently than the other 
 
252 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 poor soul, for in her case the process was allowed to 
 take longer, and the doctor attending her was quite taken 
 
 in." 
 
 "How horrible !" muttered Blanche. "How very, very 
 horrible!" 
 
 "Yes, horrible indeed! But why I've come here to- 
 day, Blanche, is to tell you that to-morrow Lionel Varick 
 will be arrested on the charge of murder. I have come to 
 say that you and Bubbles must leave Wyndfell Hall this 
 afternoon." 
 
 Blanche hardly heard what he was saying. She was 
 absorbed in the horror and in the amazement of the 
 story he had just told her, and in what was going to 
 happen to-morrow to the man who had been for so long 
 her familiar friend. 
 
 "It is an immense relief to me to hear that you never 
 even saw the late Mrs. Varick." Mark Gifford went 
 on: "I was afraid that you might have been mixed up 
 with this dreadful business; that he might have used 
 you in some way." 
 
 Blanche shook her head, and he went on, musingly : 
 "There were two ladies living next door to the house 
 at Redsands where the poor woman was done to death. 
 They, I expect, will have to give evidence, at least I 
 know that one of them will, a certain Miss Miss ?" 
 
 "Brabazon?" supplied Blanche quickly. 
 
 "Yes, that's the name! A certain Miss Brabazon was 
 a great deal with Mrs. Varick. She seems to have been 
 an intimate friend of both the husband and wife. She 
 used to go out with Varick for motor drives. Has he 
 ever spoken to you of her?" 
 
 "Miss Brabazon is here, now, at Wyndfell Hall," ex- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 253 
 
 claimed Blanche. "You must have heard of her, Mark? 
 She's the owner of some tremendously big city business." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think it can be that girl!" 
 
 Mark Gifford looked surprised and perturbed. 
 
 "But I know it's that girl. She's become quite a friend 
 of mine, and of Bubbles. Oh, Mark, I do hope Helen 
 Brabazon won't be brought into this dreadful business 
 d'you think that will be really necessary?" 
 
 "I don't know," he said slowly. "But some of our 
 people think that Varick may put up a fight. British 
 criminal law is much too kind to murderers. Even if 
 there's evidence enough to hang a man ten times over, 
 there's always a sporting chance he may get off! There 
 is in this case." 
 
 Blanche turned suddenly very pale. The full realiza- 
 tion of what those words meant rushed upon her. He 
 feared she was going to faint. 
 
 "Forgive me," she muttered. "It's stupid, I know; 
 but you must remember that that I've known Lionel 
 Varick a long time." 
 
 "I'm not a bit surprised that you are so distressed," 
 he said soothingly. 
 
 And then something happened which did surprise 
 Mark Gifford! He was supposed to be a clever, intelli- 
 gent man, and there were many people who went in awe 
 of him; but he knew very little about women. This, 
 perhaps, was why he felt utterly astounded when Blanche 
 suddenly burst into tears, and began rocking herself back- 
 wards and forwards. "Oh, Mark!" she sobbed. "Oh, 
 Mark, I'm so unhappy, I'm so miserable I'm so fright- 
 ened. Do do help me !" 
 
 "That's just what I came to do," he said simply. But 
 
254 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 he was very much troubled. Her face was full of a 
 kind of agonized appeal. . . . 
 
 Greatly daring, he bent down over her, and gathered 
 her into his arms. 
 
 She clung to him convulsively; and, all at once, there 
 came insistently to Mark Gifford, George Herbert's 
 beautiful saying: "There is an hour in which a man may 
 be happy all his life, can he but find it." Perhaps that 
 hour, that moment, had come to him now. 
 
 "Blanche," he whispered, "Blanche darling ! You 
 didn't really mean what you wrote yesterday ? Don't you 
 think the time has come when two such old friends as 
 you and I might " 
 
 " make fools of themselves?" 
 
 She looked up at him, and there came a quivering smile 
 over her disfigured face. "Yes, if you really wish it, 
 Mark. I'll do just as you like." 
 
 "D'you really mean that ?" he asked. 
 
 And she said firmly: "Yes, Mark I really do mean 
 it." And he felt her yielding yielding in spirit as well 
 as in body in body as well as in spirit. 
 
 "I suppose you couldn't come back with me to Lon- 
 don, now?" he asked a little shyly. "We could get the 
 woman at the post office down there to send up a letter to 
 Bubbles, explaining that you had to go away unexpect- 
 edly, and telling her to follow you to town to-day." 
 
 It was rather a wild proposal, and he was not surprised 
 when he saw her shake her head. "I can't do that," she 
 said. "But oh, Mark, I wish I could ! Bubbles is in bed. 
 There was an accident it's too long to tell you about it 
 now. But, of course, I'll manage to get her away to- 
 day." 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 255 
 
 And then the oppressive horror of it all suddenly came 
 back to her. "When did you say they were going to 
 arrest Lionel?" 
 
 She uttered the words slowly, and with difficulty. 
 
 "They're going to arrest him to-morrow, Friday, in 
 the early afternoon," he said in a low voice. "By God's 
 mercy," he spoke simply, reverently, "I got your letter 
 in time, Blanche." 
 
 He looked at her anxiously. "I'm afraid even now you 
 will have some difficult hours to live through," and, as he 
 saw her face change, "I trust absolutely to your discre- 
 tion," he said hesitatingly. 
 
 "Of course," she gave the assurance hurriedly. "Of 
 course you can do that, Mark." 
 
 Without looking at her, he went on: 
 
 "As a matter of fact, the house has been watched for 
 some days. If he tries to get away he will destroy the 
 the sporting chance I mentioned just now." 
 
 "I must be going back," she said, getting up. "Sev- 
 eral of the party were, in any case, leaving this after- 
 noon, and I must manage to get everybody else away as 
 well." 
 
 Her mind was in a whirl of conflicting feelings and 
 emotions. And then, all at once, she was moved, taken 
 away from the dreadful problem of the moment, by what 
 she saw in Mark Gifford's face. It was filled with a 
 kind of sober gladness. "Mark," she exclaimed, "what 
 a selfish brute I've always been to you never giving 
 always taking! I'll try to be different now." 
 
 She held out her hand ; he took it and held it closely. 
 "When shall I see you again?" he asked. "May I come 
 
256 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 and meet you and Bubbles at Liverpool Street to-mor- 
 row?" 
 
 "Yes do. That will be a great comfort !" And then, 
 acting as she very seldom did, on impulse, Blanche rather 
 shamefacedly held up her face to his. . . . 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AGAIN and again, as Blanche Farrow walked slowly 
 back to Wyndfell Hall, she went over the meagre 
 details of the strange story she had just been told. 
 Again and again she tried to fill in the bare outlines of 
 the tale. 
 
 Lionel Varick a murderer? Her mind, her heart, re- 
 fused to accept the possibility. 
 
 Suddenly there came back to her a recollection of the 
 curious, now many years old, circumstances which had 
 attended her knowledge of Varick's first marriage. 
 
 Someone, she could not now remember who, had taken 
 her to one of the cheap foreign restaurants in Soho, 
 which were not then so much frequented by English peo- 
 ple as they are now. She had been surprised, and rather 
 amused, to see Lionel Varick at a neighbouring table, 
 apparently entertaining a middle-aged, rather prim-look- 
 ing lady, whom he had introduced to her, Blanche, rather 
 unwillingly, as "my friend, Miss Weatherfield." 
 
 Then had come the strange part of the story! 
 
 When on her way to stay with some friends in Sussex 
 a few days later, she found herself in the same railway 
 carriage as Miss Weatherfield ; and, during the course of 
 some desultory talk, the latter had mentioned that she 
 was daughter to the Chichester doctor who had attended 
 Lionel Varick's wife in her last illness. 
 
 Lionel Varick's wife? For a moment Blanche had 
 
 257 
 
258 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 thought that there must be some mistake, or that her 
 ears had betrayed her. But she very soon realized that 
 there was no mistake, and that she had heard aright. 
 
 Successfully concealing her ignorance of the fact that 
 their mutual friend was a widower, she had ventured a 
 few discreet questions, to which had come willing an- 
 swers. These made it clear why Varick had chosen to re- 
 main silent concerning what had evidently been a sordid 
 and melancholy episode of his past life. 
 
 Miss Weatherfield told her pleasant new acquaintance 
 that the Varicks, when they had first come to Chichester, 
 had been very poor, the wife of an obviously lower class 
 than the husband. But that Varick, being the gentleman 
 he was, had not minded what he did to earn an honest 
 living, and that through Dr. Weatherfield he had ob- 
 tained for a while employment with a chemist, his work 
 being that of taking round the medicines, as he was not 
 of course qualified to make up prescriptions. 
 
 While Miss Weatherfield had babbled on, Blanche had 
 been able to piece together what had evidently been a 
 singularly painful story. Mrs. Varick had been a violent, 
 disagreeable woman, and the kindly spinster had felt 
 deeply sorry for the husband, himself little more than a 
 boy. But she admitted that her father, while attending 
 Mrs. Varick, had acquired a prejudice against the hus- 
 band of his patient, and she added, smilingly, that it was 
 without her father's knowledge or consent that she had 
 given the young man, after the death of his wife, a 
 valuable business introduction. 
 
 Miss Weatherfield evidently flattered herself that this 
 introduction had been a turning-point in Varick's life, 
 and that what appeared to her his present prosperity was 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 259 
 
 owing to what she had done. In any case, he had shown 
 his gratitude by keeping in touch with her, and on the 
 rare occasions when she came to London, they generally 
 met. 
 
 Blanche Farrow, even in those early days, was too 
 much a woman of the world to feel as surprised as some 
 people would have been. All the same, she had felt dis- 
 concerted and a little pained, that the man who was fond 
 of telling her that she was his only real friend in the 
 world had concealed from her so important a fact as 
 that of his marriage. 
 
 After some hesitation she had made up her mind to 
 tell him of her new-found knowledge, and at once he had 
 filled in and coloured the sketchy outlines of the picture 
 drawn by the rather foolish if kindly natured Miss 
 Weatherfield. Yes, it was true that he had been a fool, 
 though a quixotic fool so Blanche had felt on hearing 
 his version of the story. At the time of the marriage 
 Varick had been nineteen, his wife five years older. The 
 two had soon parted, but they had made up their differ- 
 ences after a separation which lasted four years. Varick's 
 fortunes had then been at their lowest ebb, and the two 
 had drifted to Chichester, where Mrs. Varick had humble, 
 respectable relations. After a while the woman had 
 fallen ill, and finally died. Blanche had seen how it had 
 pained and disturbed Varick to rake out the embers of 
 the past, and neither had ever referred to the sad story 
 again. 
 
 And now, from considering the past, Blanche Farrow 
 turned shrinkingly to the present. 
 
 In common with the rest of the world, she had at times 
 
26o FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 followed the course of some great murder trial; and she 
 had been interested, as most intelligent people are oc- 
 casionally interested, in the ins and outs of more "than 
 one so-called "poisoning mystery.*' 
 
 But such happenings had seemed utterly remote from 
 herself; and to her imagination the word "murderer" 
 had connoted an eccentric, cunning, mentally misshapen 
 monster, lacking all resemblance to the vast bulk of 
 human kind. She tried to realize that, if Mark Gifford's 
 tale were true, a man with whom she herself had long 
 been in close sympathy, and whose peculiar character 
 she had rather prided herself on understanding, had been 
 nay, was such a monster. 
 
 Blanche felt a touch of shuddering repulsion from her- 
 self, as well as from Varick, as she now remembered 
 how sincerely she had rejoiced when, reading between 
 the lines of his letter, she had guessed that he was marry- 
 ing an unattractive woman for her money. It was now 
 a comfort to feel that, even so, she had certainly felt a 
 sensation of disgust when it had come to her knowledge 
 that Varick had assumed, with regard to that same un- 
 attractive woman, an extravagant devotion she felt con- 
 vinced he did not could not feel. It had shocked her, 
 made her feel uncomfortable, to hear Helen Brabazon's 
 artless allusions to the tenderness and devotion he had 
 lavished on "poor Milly." 
 
 Helen Brabazon ? A sensation of ain, almost of 
 shame, swept over Blanche Farrow. Were Helen to 
 appear as witness in a cause celebre the girl's life would 
 henceforth be shadowed and smirched by an awful 
 memory. And then there rose before her mind another 
 dread possibility. Was it not possible nay, probable 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 261 
 
 that she, Blanche Farrow, would be sucked into the vor- 
 tex? 
 
 She remembered a case in which the prisoner had been 
 charged with the murder of a relation through whose 
 death he had received considerable benefit, and how four 
 or five men and women of repute had been called to testify 
 to his high character, and to the kindness of his heart. 
 But their evidence had availed him nothing, for he had 
 been hanged. 
 
 Blanche quickened her footsteps as, in imagination, 
 she saw herself in the witness-box speaking on behalf of 
 Lionel Varick. 
 
 She argued with herself that, after all, it was just 
 possible that he might be innocent! If so, she would 
 fight for him to the death, and that, however much it 
 distressed and angered Mark Gifford that she should 
 do so. 
 
 Absorbed in the dread and terrible thing he had come 
 to tell her, she had not given him, the man who loved 
 her, and whose wife she was to be, one thought since 
 their solemn, rather shamefaced, embrace. Yet now the 
 knowledge that, however, much he disapproved, Mark 
 would stand by her, gave her a wonderful feeling of 
 security, of having left the open sea of life for a safe 
 harbour and that in spite of the terrible hours, perhaps 
 the terrible weeks and months, which now lay before 
 her. 
 
 Turning the sharp angle which led to the gate giving 
 admittance to the gardens of Wyndfell Hall, she sud- 
 denly met Helen Brabazon face to face, and for one 
 wild moment Blanche thought that Helen knew. The 
 
262 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 girl's usually placid, comely face was disfigured. It was 
 plain that she had been crying bitterly. 
 
 "I'm going to the village," she exclaimed; "I've got 
 to go home to-day, and I must telegraph to my uncle." 
 
 "I hope you haven't had bad news?" said Blanche 
 mechanically. 
 
 She was telling herself that it was quite, quite im- 
 possible that Helen knew anything but as Helen, who 
 had begun crying again, shook her head, Blanche asked: 
 "Does Lionel know that you want to leave to-day?" 
 
 "Yes; I have told Mr. Varick," and then all at <*ice 
 she exclaimed: "Oh, Miss Farrow, I feel so utterly 
 miserable! Mr. Varick has just asked me to be his wife, 
 and it has made me feel as if I had been so treacherous 
 to Milly. Yet I don't think I did anything to make him 
 like me? Do you think I did?" 
 
 She looked appealingly at Blanche. 
 
 It was plain that what had happened had given her 
 an extraordinary shock. "I am sure, now," she went on 
 falteringly, "that Milly poor, poor Milly haunts this 
 house. I have felt, again and again, as if she were 
 hovering about me. I believe that what I saw in the 
 hall, on that awful afternoon, was really her. Yet Mr. 
 Varick says that Milly would be very pleased if he and 
 I were to marry each other. Surely he is mistaken?" 
 
 "Yes," said Blanche slowly, "I think he is." 
 
 "I feel so miserable," went on the girl, still speaking 
 with a touch of excitement which in her was so very un- 
 usual. "What happened this morning has spoiled what 
 I thought was such a beautiful friendship! And then I 
 feel frightened horribly frightened" she went on in 
 a low voice. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 263 
 
 "What is it that frightens you, Helen?" asked Blanche. 
 
 These confidences seemed at once so futile, and yet also 
 so sinister, knowing what she now knew. 
 
 "I'm afraid that Mr. Varick will 'will' me into thinking 
 I care for him," the girl confessed in a low voice, "fete 
 says that he will never give up hope, and that, although 
 he knows he isn't worthy of me, he thinks that in time 
 I shall care for him. But I don't want to care for him, 
 Miss Farrow I'm sure that Milly is jealous of me; yet 
 at Redsands, when she was dying, it made her happy that 
 we were friends." 
 
 "I don't think you need be afraid that Lionel will ever 
 ask you to marry him again," said Blanche firmly. "And, 
 Helen? Let me give you a word of advice. Never, 
 never, tell anyone of what happened to you this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 The girl blushed painfully. "I know I ought not to 
 have told you," she whispered, "but I felt so wretched." 
 She hesitated, and then added: "Ever since it happened 
 I have been remembering that first evening, when my 
 dear father warned me to leave this house. Oh, how I 
 wish I had done what he told me to do!" 
 
 "I think you are wrong there," said Blanche. "I think 
 a day will come, Helen, and in spite of anything that has 
 happened, or that may happen, when you will be very 
 glad that you stayed on at Wyndfell Hall." 
 
 "Do you?" she said wistfully and then she went on, 
 with a note of diffidence and shyness which touched the 
 older woman : "You and Bubbles have both been so kind 
 to me would you rather that I stayed on with you? I 
 will if you like." 
 
 "As a matter of fact, Bubbles and I are going away 
 
264 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 to-day, after all," said Blanche, "so let me send one of 
 the men down with your telegram." 
 
 "I would rather take it myself really!" and a moment 
 later she disappeared round the sharp turning which led 
 on to the open road. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Blanche walked on, her eyes on the ground, until there 
 fell on her ears the sound of quick footsteps. She looked 
 up, to see Varick's tall figure hurrying towards her. 
 
 They met by the moat bridge, and as he came up to 
 her he saw her pull forward the veil which, neatly ar- 
 ranged round the rim of her small felt hat, was not really 
 meant to cover her face. 
 
 "Let's walk down here for a moment," he said abrupt- 
 ly. "I want to ask you a question, Blanche." 
 
 They stepped off the carriage road on to the grass, 
 and, walking on a few paces, stood together at the exact 
 spot from which Varick, on Christmas Eve, had looked 
 at the house before him with such exultant eyes. 
 
 Three weeks ago Wyndfell Hall had appeared kindly 
 and welcoming, as well as mysteriously beautiful, with 
 its old diamond-paned windows all aglow. Now, in the 
 wintry daylight, the ancient dwelling house still looked 
 mysteriously beautiful; but there was something cold, 
 menacing, forlorn in its appearance. The windows looked 
 like blind eyes. . . . 
 
 He turned on her suddenly, and held out the telegram 
 she had received that morning. 
 
 "One of the servants picked this up on the breakfast 
 table and brought it to me. What the devil does it mean? 
 If Mark Gifford wanted to see you why couldn't he come 
 here?" 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 265 
 
 Blanche looked at him dumbly. Had her life depended 
 on her speaking she could not have spoken just then. 
 
 He went on: "Have you seen Gifford? Did he say 
 anything about me?" 
 
 He uttered the words with a kind of breathless haste. 
 She had the painful feeling that he wanted to put her in 
 the wrong, to quarrel with her. Even as he spoke he 
 was tearing the telegram into small pieces, and casting 
 them down on to the neat, well-kept grass path. 
 
 "I suspect I know the business he came about " 
 
 He was speaking quietly, collectedly, now, and she felt 
 that he was making a great effort to speak calmly and 
 confidently. 
 
 "I don't think, Lionel, that you can know," she an- 
 swered at last, in an almost inaudible voice. 
 
 "Well, let me tell you what it is that I suspect," he 
 said. 
 
 There was a long pause. He was looking at her 
 warily, wondering, evidently, as to how far he dared con- 
 fide in her. And that look of his made her feel sick and 
 faint. 
 
 "I suspect," he said at last, "that Gifford came to tell 
 you a cock-and-bull story concocted by my wife's com- 
 panion, a woman called Julia Pigchalke." 
 
 "Yes, Lionel, you have guessed right." 
 
 It was an unutterable relief that he thus made the way 
 easy for her; a relief but she now knew that what Gif- 
 ford had told her was true. 
 
 "He wants me to get everyone away from here to- 
 day," she went on, in a tone so low that he could scarcely 
 hear her. 
 
 "Away from here? To-day?" he repeated, startled. 
 
266 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 "Yes, away before to-morrow midday." She moistened 
 her dry lips with her tongue. 
 
 "I am the victim of a foul conspiracy!" he exclaimed. 
 "Panton warned me that I should have trouble with that 
 woman." He waited a moment, then: "Did Gifford tell 
 you that they have sent for Panton?" he asked suddenly. 
 So that, she told herself, was what had really put him 
 on the track. She nodded, and he added grimly : "They 
 won't get much out of him." 
 
 Then he was going to fight it fight it to the last? 
 
 "You will stand my friend, Blanche," he asked, and 
 slowly she bent her head. 
 
 "Of course you know what this woman Pigchalke 
 wishes to prove?" 
 
 He was now looking keenly, breathlessly, into her pale, 
 set face. "Come," he said, "come, Blanche don't be so 
 upset! Tell me exactly what it was that Gifford told 
 you." 
 
 But she shook her head. "I I can't," she murmured. 
 
 "Then I will tell you what perhaps he felt ashamed to 
 say to any friend of mine that is that Julia Pigchalke 
 suspects me of having done my poor Milly to death! 
 She went and saw Panton; she did more, she actually 
 advertised for particulars of my past life. Did he know 
 that?" 
 
 He waited, for what seemed a very long time to 
 Blanche, and then in a voice which, try as he might, was 
 yet full of suppressed anxiety, he added: "She had got 
 hold somehow of the fact that I once lived at Chichester." 
 
 Blanche looked down, and she counted over, twice, the 
 thirty little bits of the torn telegram before she answered, 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 267 
 
 in a low, muffled voice : "It's what happened at Chichester, 
 Lionel, that made them listen to hen" 
 
 There was a long moment of tense, of terrible, silence 
 between them. 
 
 At last Varick broke the silence, and, speaking in an 
 easy, if excited, conversational tone, he exclaimed: 
 "That's a bit of bad luck for me! I have an enemy 
 there an old fool of a doctor father of that woman 
 you met me with years ago." 
 
 He walked on a few steps, leaving her standing, and 
 then came back to her. 
 
 More seriously he asked the fateful question: "I take 
 it I am to be arrested to-morrow?" 
 
 He saw by her face that he had guessed truly, and as 
 if speaking to himself, he said musingly: "That means 
 I have twenty- four hours." 
 
 She forced herself to say: "They think you have a 
 good sporting chance if you stay where you are." 
 
 "It never occurred to me to go away !" he said angrily. 
 "I want you always to remember, Blanche, that I told 
 you, here, and now, that, even if appearances may come 
 to seem damnably against me, I am an innocent man." 
 
 She answered: "I will always remember that, and 
 always say so." 
 
 He said abruptly : "I want you to do me a kindness." 
 
 She asked uneasily: "What is it, Lionel?" 
 
 "I want you to get Gifford to prevent the meeting 
 which has been arranged for to-morrow morning between 
 Panton and the Home Office expert called Spiller." 
 
 He waited a moment, then went on : "It was the sum- 
 mons to Panton which put me on the track of of this 
 
268 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 conspiracy." And Blanche felt that this time Varick 
 was speaking the truth. 
 
 She said, deprecatingly : "Mark would do a great deal 
 to please me, but I'm afraid he won't do that." 
 
 "I think he may," he answered, in a singular tone, 
 "you may have a greater power of persuasion than you 
 know." 
 
 She made no answer to that, knowing well that Mark 
 would never interfere with regard to such a matter as 
 this. 
 
 "Can you suggest any reason I can give, why we should 
 be all going away to-day?" she asked falteringly. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation he answered : "You can 
 say there has been trouble among the servants, and that 
 I should feel much obliged if I could have the house 
 cleared of all my visitors by to-night." 
 
 Then Blanche Farrow came to a sudden determination. 
 "I will get them all away to-day, Lionel, but I, myself, 
 will stay till to-morrow morning." 
 
 For the first time during this strange, to her this un- 
 utterably painful conversation, Varick showed a touch 
 of real, genuine feeling. It was as if a mask had fallen 
 from his face. 
 
 He gripped her hand. "You're a brick!" he ex- 
 claimed. "I ought to tell you to go away, too, but I 
 won't be proud, Blanche. I'll accept your kindness." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THERE are hours in almost every life of which the 
 memory is put away, hidden, as far as may be, 
 in an unfathomable pit. Blanche Farrow never recalled 
 to herself, and never discussed with any living being, 
 the hours which followed her talk with Lionel Varick. 
 
 Of the five people to whom she told the untrue tale 
 so quickly and so cleverly imagined by their host, only 
 one suspected that she was not telling the truth. That 
 one oddly enough was Sir Lyon Dilsford. He 
 guessed that something was wrong, and in one sense he 
 got near to the truth but it was such a very small 
 bit of the truth! 
 
 Sir Lyon suspected that Varick had made an offer 
 to Helen Brabazon, and that she had refused him. But 
 he was never to know if his suspicion had been correct, 
 for he was one of those rare human being who are never 
 tempted to ask indiscreet or unnecessary questions from 
 even their nearest and dearest. 
 
 In answer to Miss Farrow's apologies and explana- 
 tions, everyone, of course, expressed himself or herself 
 as very willing to fall in with the suggestion that they 
 should all travel up to town together that day. It also 
 seemed quite natural to them all, even to Bubbles, that 
 Blanche should stay behind for the one night. 
 
 She was not the sort of woman to leave a task half 
 done. She had engaged the servants, and she would re- 
 
 269 
 
270 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 main to settle up with them. The average man and 
 most of them thought Varick an average man is help- 
 less in dealing with so complicated a domestic problem 
 as a number of job servants. 
 
 As the hours of the early afternoon went by, Blanche 
 more and more marvelled at Varick' s extraordinary 
 powers of self-command. Excepting that he was, per- 
 haps, a little more restless than usual, he was at his best 
 as the courteous, kindly host, now parting with regret 
 from a number of well-liked guests. 
 
 He even succeeded in putting Helen Brabazon once 
 more at her ease, for, choosing his opportunity, he told 
 her, in a few earnest words which touched her deeply, 
 that he had come to see her point of view, and to ac- 
 quiesce in her decision. 
 
 Blanche heard him making an appointment with Dr. 
 Panton to lunch at the Ritz on one of the days of the 
 following week. He asked Sir Lyon to join them there; 
 and Blanche saw the look of real chagrin and annoyance 
 which passed over his face when Sir Lyon declined 
 the invitation. 
 
 But even what was obviously sincere and real, seemed 
 Utterly insincere and unreal to Blanche Farrow, during 
 those tense hours. Thus, when she overheard Donning- 
 ton and Bubbles talking over the arrangements for their 
 wedding, their talk seemed to her all make-believe. 
 
 At last, however, there came the moment for which she 
 had been longing for what seemed to her an eternity. 
 
 Miss Brabazon, Sir Lyqn, and Dr. Panton were the 
 first to go off; followed, after a few minutes' interval, 
 Donnington, Bubbles, and the luggage. 
 
 Blanche noticed that Lionel's parting with Bubbles was 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 271 
 
 particularly suave and cordial. But the girl was not at 
 her best. When her host touched her, accidentally, she 
 shrank back, and his face clouded. And, as the motor 
 drove off, he turned to Blanche and said discontentedly: 
 "I wish Bubbles liked me better, Blanche!" 
 
 She hardly knew what to answer, for it was true that 
 the girl did not like Varick, and had never liked him. 
 Yet it seemed such a strange thing for him to trouble 
 about that now. But Lionel, poor Lionel, had always 
 had an almost morbid wish to be liked to stand well 
 with people, so she told herself with a strange feeling of 
 pain at her heart. 
 
 They walked back together into the house, and Blanche, 
 going over to the fire-place, poured herself out another 
 cup of tea. 
 
 In a sense she still felt as if she was living through a 
 terrible, unreal dream, and yet it was an unutterable re- 
 lief to be no longer obliged to pretend. 
 
 She glanced furtively at Varick. 
 
 He looked calm, cheerful, collected. "Will you excuse 
 me for a few moments? I have got several things to 
 do/' he said. 'Then I think I will go out and tramp 
 about for a bit. It's been a strain for you as well as for 
 me, Blanche," he added sympathetically. 
 
 "Yes, it has," she answered almost inaudibly. 
 
 "Is there anything I can get you?" he asked. "Will 
 you be quite comfortable?" 
 
 She repeated, mechanically: "Quite comfortable, thank 
 you, Lionel," and then, as an after-thought: "I suppose 
 *ve shall dine at the same time as usual?" 
 
 "Certainly why not?" He looked puzzled at her 
 
272 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 question. "Let me see it's not much after five now; 
 111 be back by seven." 
 
 He walked to the door, and from there turned round. 
 "So long!" he cried out cheerily, and she was sur- 
 prised, for Varick seldom made use of any slang or 
 colloquialism. 
 
 Feeling all at once utterly exhausted and spent, she 
 drew a deep chair forward to the fire and lay back in it. 
 Her mind seemed completely to empty itself of thought. 
 She neither remembered the past nor considered the 
 future, and very soon she slipped off into a deep sleep 
 the sleep of exhaustion which so often follows a great 
 
 mental strain. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 It must have been over an hour later that Blanche 
 seemed to awaken to a perception that the big oak door 
 behind her, which gave access to the deep-eaved porch, 
 had opened and closed. 
 
 She looked round ; and, in the candle-light, for the fire 
 had died down, she saw Varick, looking neither to the 
 right nor to the left, walk quickly across the long room 
 and slip noiselessy through the door leading to the in- 
 terior of the house. 
 
 Then it was seven o'clock? Nearly three-quarters of 
 an hour before she must go up and dress for dinner. 
 
 Almost at once she was asleep again, to be, however, 
 thoroughly awakened a few moments later by the open- 
 ing and the shutting of a door. 
 
 It was the old butler, a man Blanche had come to like 
 and to respect. 
 
 He held a salver in his hand, and on the salver was a 
 letter. "Mr. Varick asked me to give you this note at 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 273 
 
 a quarter-past seven, ma'am. I understood him to say 
 that he might be late for dinner to-night as he had to go 
 up to the Reservoir Cottage." 
 
 Blanche sat up, all her senses suddenly on the alert. 
 
 "Mr. Varick came in some minutes ago/' she said, 
 "at least, I think he did." 
 
 She was beginning to wonder if Lionel had really come 
 in, or if she had only dreamt that he had done so. 
 
 "I don't think he came in, ma'am, for I've been in the 
 dining-room, with the door open, for a long time. I 
 would have heard him if he had come through and gone 
 upstairs." 
 
 "You might see if he is in," she said quietly. 
 
 She took the letter off the salver, but did not break 
 the seal till the old man had come back with the words : 
 "No, ma'am, Mr. Varick is not in the house." 
 
 He lingered on for a moment. "I hope you will for- 
 give me, ma'am, for mentioning that Mr. Varick told 
 us we could all go off early to-morrow morning if we 
 liked, instead of next Monday. He paid us up after the 
 visitors had gone away, and he also gave us the bonus 
 he so kindly promised. I never wish to serve a more 
 generous gentleman. But the chef and I decided that we 
 would ask you, ma'am, if it is for your convenience that 
 we leave early to-morrow?" 
 
 "Anything that Mr. Varick has arranged with you 
 will suit me," she said quickly. "As a matter of fact, 
 I think he would like you to leave by the train I shall be 
 going by myself." 
 
 As the man turned away she looked down at Varick's 
 letter. On the envelope was written in his good, clear 
 handwriting: "The Hon. Blanche Farrow, Wyndfell 
 
274 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 Hall-." But no premonition of its contents reached her 
 still weary, excited brain. 
 
 Written on a large plain sheet of paper, the letter 
 ran: 
 
 "Mv DEAR BLANCHE, I fear I am going to give you 
 a shock for, by the time this reaches you, there will 
 have been another accident one very similar to that 
 which befell poor little Bubbles. But this time there will 
 be no clever, skilful Panton to bring the drowned to life. 
 
 "I suggest that you begin to feel uneasy about a quarter 
 past eight. I leave to your good sense the details of the 
 sad discovery. I have but one request to make to you, 
 kindest and truest of friends ; that is, that you remember 
 what I asked you to do with reference to Panton's ap- 
 pointment to-morrow morning. If you can get a tele- 
 gram or telephone message through to Gifford to-night, 
 I think that appointment will be postponed indefinitely. 
 You .will perhaps think me a sentimental fool for wish- 
 ing to keep Panton's good opinion, but such is my wish. 
 
 "I am distressed at the thought of the trouble and 
 worry to which you must inevitably be exposed to- 
 night. On the other hand, much more trouble and worry 
 in the future will thus have been saved, even to you. 
 
 "Yours ever, 
 
 "LIONEL VARICK. 
 
 "I trust to your friendship to destroy this letter as 
 soon as read." 
 
 Blanche read the letter once again, right through, then 
 she held out the big sheet of paper, and dropped it into 
 the heart of the fire. 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 275, 
 
 For the second time that day she burst into tears, 
 shaken to the depths by the extraordinarily complicated 
 feelings which filled her heart and mind, feelings of 
 horror and of pain and yet of intense, immeasurable 
 relief! 
 
 Then she pulled herself together, and prepared to act, 
 for the second time that day, her part in a tragi-comedy 
 in which where there had been two characters there was 
 now but one. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 DR. PANTON'S appointment at the Home Office 
 had been for half -past ten, and, though there hap- 
 pened to be on this early* January day an old-fashioned, 
 black London fog, he had been punctual to the minute. 
 
 It was now eight minutes to eleven, and he began to 
 feel rather cross and impatient. 
 
 There was nothing to do in the big, ugly, stately room 
 into which he had been shown. There was a book- 
 case, but it was locked, and he had not brought a paper 
 with him but that, perhaps, was a good thing, for the 
 one electric globe gave a very bad light. 
 
 He wondered what manner of man Dr. Spiller might 
 be in any case a remarkable and distinguished person, 
 one of the great authorities on poisons in Europe. 
 
 At last the door opened, and Dr. Panton felt surprised 
 even a little disappointed. Not so had he imagined the 
 famous Spiller. 
 
 "Forgive me for having kept you waiting, Dr. er 
 Panton." 
 
 The tone of the quiet-looking, middle-aged man who 
 stood before him was extremely courteous, if a trifle 
 uncertain and nervous. 
 
 "If I hadn't been lodging close by I should have been 
 late, too, Dr. Spiller." 
 
 "My name is not Spiller," said the other quickly. "I 
 have come to explain to you that the matter concerning 
 
 276 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 277 
 
 which you were to see Dr. Spiller this morning has been 
 settled. We should have saved you the trouble of com- 
 ing here had we known where you were staying in Lon- 
 don." 
 
 Dr. Panton felt, not unreasonably, annoyed. "If only 
 Dr. Spiller had sent me a wire yesterday, " he exclaimed 
 vexedly, "he had my address in the country, I should 
 have been saved a useless visit to London!" 
 
 "He couldn't have let you know in time, for the matter 
 was only settled this morning." 
 
 There was a pause, and then the speaker added: "You 
 will send in a minute of your expenses, of course?" 
 
 Dr. Panton bowed stiffly. He felt that he had been 
 badly treated. 
 
 "I'm sorry you have been put to this inconvenience," 
 and the courteous Home Office official really did look 
 distressed. He waited a moment. "I think you know 
 a friend of mine, Miss Blanche Farrow, Dr. Panton?" 
 he said a little awkwardly. 
 
 "Yes; we've both been staying in the same house for 
 the New Year." 
 
 Panton's good-humour had come back; he was telling 
 himself, with some amusement, how very small the world 
 is, after all ! 
 
 There was a pause, and then Panton asked: "Do you 
 happen to know Lionel Varick, who owns the beautiful 
 house where Miss Farrow and I have both been staying, 
 Mr. er ?" 
 
 "Gifford," supplied the other quickly. "Yes, I have 
 been slightly acquainted with Mr. Varick for some 
 years." A very uncomfortable, peculiar look came over 
 the speaker's face. "I wonder if you have heard of the 
 
278 FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 
 
 terrible thing which happened yesterday at Wyndfell 
 Hall?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 "I only left the house at five o'clock/' exclaimed Dr. 
 Panton; and then, as he saw the look of gravity deepen 
 on the other man's face, he asked : "Was there a fire there 
 last night? I trust not!" 
 
 "No," said the other, slowly, "nothing has happened 
 to the house, Dr. Panton. But your friend Mr. Varick 
 is dead. He went out for a walk in the dark, and seems 
 to have slipped over the side of an embankment into 
 deep water. His body was not recovered for some hours 
 in fact, not till early this morning." 
 
 Dr. Panton got up from the chair on which he had 
 been sitting. He was too shocked, too taken aback, to 
 speak, and the other went on : 
 
 "I cannot give you many details, for when Miss Farrow 
 telephoned to me she was very much upset, and the line 
 was very bad. But I may add that there is no doubt 
 about it, for the news was confirmed, through another 
 source, half an hour later." 
 
 "What a terrible thing! What an awful awful 
 thing!" 
 
 The young doctor looked overwhelmed with horror 
 and surprise. "You must forgive me," he went on, "if 
 I seem unduly shocked ; but I have lost in Lionel Varick 
 one of the best friends man ever had, Mr. Gifford I'd 
 have sold the shirt off my back for him and I think I may 
 say he'd have done the same for me." 
 
 Mark Gifford, cautious man though he was, took a sud- 
 den resolution. "If you can spare the time," he ex- 
 claimed, "I wonder, Dr. Panton, if you would go back to 
 Wyndfell Hall to-day? It would be an act of true kind- 
 
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP 279 
 
 ness to Miss Farrow. I had thought of going myself; 
 but, as you seem to have been such a friend of Va- 
 rick's ?" 
 
 "Of course I'll go down by the very first train I can 
 catch!" answered Panton eagerly. 
 
 "Perhaps you could persuade Miss Farrow to come up 
 to London at once, and leave all the sad details con- 
 nected with the inquest, and so on, to you?" 
 
 "I will indeed! Miss Farrow must be terribly dis- 
 tressed, for I know she was a very, very close friend of 
 poor Varick's." 
 
 Mark Gifford winced it was a very slight movement, 
 quite unperceived by Dr. Panton. 
 
 To the surprise of his subordinates, who had never 
 seen him do so much honour to any male visitor before, 
 Mr. Gifford accompanied the young medical man along 
 the corridor, down the stone staircase, and through to 
 the great outer arch which gives on to the quiet street. 
 
 At the moment of their final parting Dr. Panton ex- 
 claimed: "Am I to understand that Dr. Spiller will not 
 be sending for me again?" 
 
 "I thought I had made it clear," replied Mr. Gifford 
 mildly, "that the matter about which he wished to see 
 you is now closed." 
 
 THE END 
 
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