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it, but it’s gone !” She looked quickly around the room, looked back at me, her face awry.
    Fallen out of the robe when she hit the floor? I glanced around the carpet, didn’t see it.
    There had been no more screams. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.
    I said the impolite word again.
    I snatched the handcuffs up into my left hand and stuck both of them, hand and cuffs, into the pocket of my dressing gown. I took a last look at Cecily. She was on her hands and knees now atop the bed, slapping at the bedspread, her short hair flapping frantically as she looked back and forth. I ran to the door and yanked it open and I rushed out into the hall.

Chapter Six
    THE ILLUMINATION IN the corridor came from dim electric lights set in brass sconces along the stone walls. Sir David Merridale stood in front of the next doorway to my left—the door to the suite occupied by Mrs. Allardyce and Miss Turner. Just as I saw him, Sir David opened the door and plunged into the room. I sprinted toward the door—with one hand jammed in my pocket, it was an awkward sprint.
    I went inside. I stuck my other hand, my right, into the right pocket of the robe. With both hands in my pockets, I might be able to pass for a normal person. Out for a casual stroll.
    By the dim light of the electric lamp on the nightstand I could see three figures in the far corner of the room. Two of the figures had their backs to me. One was Sir David. The other had to be Mrs. Allardyce. Unless there were two or three people under that bulky robe, traveling as one.
    The third figure stood with her back against the stone wall. She was tall. She wore a long pink flannel nightgown and her head was lowered and her hands were covering her face. Her long brown hair was loose and it spilled down over her shoulders. Miss Turner.
    The door to the next chamber was open. A light was on in there.
    “She’s had a nightmare,” said Mrs. Allardyce to Sir David.
    Miss Turner’s head jerked up. “It was no nightmare!” she said. “I saw him.”
    “Saw whom?” said Sir David. He was patting Miss Turner on the shoulder. Paternally. He was also admiring her body, I noticed. I didn’t blame him. The thin pink material clung to the curves and it draped nicely over the hollows. All the curves and all the hollows seemed to be in exactly the right places. Miss Turner, at nighttime, was a surprise.
    “The ghost,” she said. “Lord Reginald.” She looked from Sir David to Mrs. Allardyce to me. “I know it sounds absurd, but he was in there!” she said, and pointed to the open door of her room.
    “Nonsense,” said Mrs. Allardyce. Her make-up was gone and I could understand now why she wore so much of it. She had no eyebrows and no lips. “You’ve had a long day. All this talk of ghosts has overstimulated you.”
    “I saw him!” With her glasses gone, her thick toffee-brown hair streaming free, she looked five years younger.
    “Now Jane, for goodness’ sake,” said Mrs. Allardyce. She spoke with that elaborate patience that always conveys its opposite, and always intends to. “Do stop making a nuisance of yourself. It’s time we all went back to bed.”
    Sir David curled his paternal arm around Miss Turner’s shoulder. “I suspect that the young lady could do with a stiff tot of brandy. I happen to—”
    Miss Turner turned and pushed his arm away with her forearm. She backed up. “Please don’t patronize me,” she said stiffly. “I’m telling you, I saw him.”
    Sir David smiled his bland smile. “I’m sure you saw something,” he said. “Something that appeared to you to be—”
    “I saw a bloody ghost, you fool!”
    “Jane!” said Mrs. Allardyce. “You forget yourself!”
    Miss Turner turned to her. Her hands were down at her sides, balled into fists. “He was there!” she said.
    “Even if he had been,” said Mrs. Allardyce deliberately, “which I do not for one moment believe, there would certainly be no need to use such