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"I am a little surprised," Geoffrey returned with a flush rising in his cheeks. "Musker used to talk a great deal of romantic nonsense. Crosbie Ghyll is no longer mine. I hope you passed a pleasant night there." Mrs. Savine became eloquent concerning the historic interest of the ancient house and her brother-in-law, who appeared interested, observed.

"Did my husband tell you that when we were in England, we were held up by a storm there one night in your ancestral home? There was a man there who ought to belong to the feudal ages. He was called Musker, and he told us quaint stories about some of you. I fancy Geoffrey, who robbed the king's dragoons, must have looked just like you when you shut your fingers so, a few minutes ago."

Geoffrey's face darkened, and Helen, who regretted the last hasty words which escaped her without reflection, watched him intently until he said: "Musker must have told you about something in my life. But I was not inconstant though the fault was doubtless mine. That is a story which cannot be mentioned again, Miss Savine."

Still, one inhabitant informed their guide, in a tongue none of the others could comprehend, that if he was in an unusually good humor old Musker, the keeper, might take them in at Crosbie Ghyll. Thus it happened that just as the rain began in earnest, such a cavalcade as had probably never before passed its gloomy portals rode up to the gate of the dilapidated edifice.

The face was like, and yet unlike, that of the gaunt and hungry man whom she had first seen sitting upon the fallen fir. "Yes," she answered gravely; "I know him. I met Mr. Thurston in British Columbia." "We would take it very kindly if you would tell us how and where you found him, miss," said Musker in haste. "I found him in a great Canadian forest.

A bright fire glowed in the rusty grate, and two candles burned on the dressing-table. "It's Mrs. Forsyth's own room, and the best in the house," the old caretaker assured the girl. "Musker has been telling you about the old Thurstons. He's main proud of them, but you needn't fear them it's long since the last one walked. You have a kind heart, and nothing evil dare hurt you. See!

Still, I daresay it was such men as these who bred in us the grit to chase the whales in the Arctic, build our railroads through the snow-barred passes, and master the primeval forest. Now we'll try to forget them, and go back out of this creepy place to the fire again." An hour later Mrs. Musker escorted Helen to her quarters.

Can't you tell me where Mr. Forsyth lives?" Musker stared at her horrified, Thomas Savine laughed, and even Helen, who had appeared unusually thoughtful, smiled. Musker answered: "No money could buy one of them out of the family, and if any but a Thurston moves that lamp from where it hangs the dead men rise and come for it when midnight strikes.

"Just gossip and lies!" broke in his spouse; and Helen, who apparently had lapsed into a disdainful indifference, asked no further questions. Mrs. Savine, however, made many inquiries, and Musker, who became unusually communicative, presently offered to show the strangers what he called the armory.

It is falling to pieces, but once when they took it to Kendal to be mended, the smith sent a man back with it on horseback before the day had broken." There was a few moments' silence when Musker concluded, and the ancient weapons glinted strangely as the lamp's flame wavered in the chilling draughts.