The Daring Twins

“Because I cannot imagine a mystery connected with such a very practical person as yourself,” returned Janet.

“Tell us what it is,” urged Phœbe, “for then it will remain a mystery no longer.”

“Oh, yes it will,” declared Marion, rather soberly. “I’ve no solution to offer. All I can do is tell you what I saw, and allow you to solve the mystery yourselves.”

“What did you see, then?” inquired Janet, curiously.

“A ghost.”

“A ghost! Why, Marion!”

“Of course, my dears, there is no such thing as a ghost, although, as I say, I saw it plainly. Otherwise I should have called it an ‘apparition’ instead of a ‘mystery’.”

“To be sure.”

“But if I saw a ghost, and ghosts are impossible, then I am in touch with a mystery,” she continued. “Do you follow my logic, girls?”

Janet gave a careless laugh.

“I thought at first you were in earnest,” she said.

But Phœbe had lived in romance during the past few days and no element of mystery now seemed absurd to her. Indeed, she began to feel slightly uneasy, without knowing why.

“Where did you see your ghost, Marion?” she asked.

“In its proper place – the graveyard.”

“Oh!” said Janet and Phœbe together, for their companion had spoken seriously and with a slight shudder. Moreover, the graveyard was at that moment a short block to their left, and twilight had already fallen. Beneath the rows of maples and chestnuts that lined the road the shadows were quite deep.

“I am troubled with insomnia,” explained Marion. “The doctors say I have studied too hard and my nerves are affected. At any rate I am very wakeful, and sometimes do not go to bed until two or three o’clock in the morning, knowing I could not sleep if I tried. Last evening I was especially restless. It was a beautiful starlit night, so after the family had all retired I slipped out of doors and started for a walk through the lanes. I have often done this before, since I came here, and it is not unusual for me to visit the old graveyard; not because I am morbid, but for the reason that it seems so restful and quiet there.”

“Naturally, dear,” murmured Janet.

“Last night my walk took me that way. I passed through the turnstile and wandered among the graves to the far end. It must have been long after midnight, but I had not a particle of fear, believe me, girls. I was not even thinking of such preposterous things as ghosts.

“By and by I retraced my steps and sat down on a fallen slab of stone to indulge in reverie. From my position I faced that ugly square mausoleum Phœbe’s grandfather once built. There is an iron grating around it, you remember, and a marble door to the tomb itself, with bronze hinges and a bronze catch. By the way, isn’t that tomb supposed to be vacant?”

“Yes,” answered Phœbe, strangely excited. “Gran’ma Eliot and my father and mother occupy graves just beside it, for gran’pa built the big tomb just for himself.”

“Not a very generous thing to do,” added Janet; “but Mr. Eliot has always been a queer man, and done queer things.”

“Well,” continued Marion, “I sat facing the tomb, as I said, when slowly and without sound the marble door opened and a ghostly figure emerged. I won’t assert it was a spirit from the other world, nor will I claim it was some person dressed in a sheet; but I am positive it was no vision of my imagination. So let us call it the Ghostly Mystery.”

“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Phœbe, breathlessly.

“It failed to disclose its sex, my dear. The door seemed to swing shut behind it; but the ghostly one was obliged to put out an arm to raise the latch of the iron gate. It passed through and I heard the click of the latch as it again fell into place. Then the apparition – ”

“The Ghostly Mystery, Marion!”

“Oh, yes; the Ghostly Mystery glided out of sight while I sat listlessly wondering what it could be. I was not frightened, but I failed to act promptly; so, when I arose to follow it, the thing or person – or whatever it was – had disappeared for good and all.”

The three strolled on in silence for a while. Then Phœbe asked:

“What time was it?”

“Perhaps one o’clock. It was nearly two when I got home; but I had walked quite a way before I decided to enter the house.”

“And have you no idea who it might be?” questioned Janet, who had now grown thoughtful.

“Not the slightest.”

“I wish I had seen it,” said Phœbe, softly.

“Oh, do you like ghosts? Well, then, I’ll take you with me on my next midnight ramble,” laughed Marion.

“Why not go to-night?” suggested Janet. “Phœbe is going to stay with me, and you may come too, Marion. Our house is even nearer to the graveyard than your own, and at dead of night we’ll all steal out and waylay his ghostship. What do you say?”

“I am willing,” declared Marion. “Are you sure you will not be frightened?”

“I may be,” admitted Janet, honestly; “but I’m willing to risk it.”

“So am I!” echoed Phœbe, eagerly.

“Then it is decided,” said Marion. “I frankly acknowledge, girls, that while we are living in an eminently practical and scientific age, these romantic adventures still prove fascinating. Let us hope we shall discover the ghost, and that the apparition will be of a quality to thrill our stagnant blood.”

“Must you go home first?” inquired Janet.

“Not if you’ll lend me a night robe. No one at home pays any attention to my wanderings, so I shall not be missed.”

They soon arrived at Judge Ferguson’s comfortable residence, which was a little beyond the outskirts of the village and delightfully situated on a slight eminence. Mrs. Ferguson, an alert, pleasant-faced little woman, welcomed the girls cordially and they passed the evening chatting together and discussing recent events in which all were alike interested. Phœbe was a bit distrait, for she could not help wondering what was happening in her room at home, where Toby Clark was keeping watch over the movements of old Elaine; but no one appeared to notice her abstraction.

Later in the evening the judge came in, and smiled cheerily upon the three young girls.

“You’ve quite a house-party to-night, Janet,” he said. “I wish you might keep this bevy with you for a month.”

Neither by glance nor word did he remind Phœbe of their conversation of the afternoon, and when they prepared to go upstairs he kissed all three impartially.

“What, to bed already?” he cried. “But run along and get your beauty sleep. Why should you wish to sit up with an old fossil like me?”

“Who has deserted us nearly the whole evening,” pouted Janet.

“True; I am to blame,” he admitted. “But a lawyer is never his own master, and to-night business kept me in the town.”

Phœbe thought she knew what had occupied him, but said nothing.

In their rooms the girls sat and discussed their plans, waiting for the judge and Mrs. Ferguson to get to bed and for the arrival of the hour when they might venture forth. It was demure little Janet who suggested they all wear sheets on their midnight stroll.

“We can carry them over our arms until we get to the graveyard,” she said, “and then wrap ourselves in the white folds. If the ghost appears we’ll show him that others are able to play the same trick.”