The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe

We went on quickly⁠—so quickly, that Laura was breathless by the time we were nearly through the plantation, and within sight of the lighted windows. I waited a moment to give her breathing-time. Just as we were about to proceed she stopped me again, and signed to me with her hand to listen once more. We both heard distinctly a long, heavy sigh behind us, in the black depths of the trees. “Who’s there?” I called out. There was no answer. “Who’s there?” I repeated. An instant of silence followed, and then we heard the light fall of the footsteps again, fainter and fainter⁠—sinking away into the darkness⁠—sinking, sinking, sinking⁠—till they were lost in the silence. We hurried out from the trees to the open lawn beyond, crossed it rapidly; and without another word passing between us, reached the house. In the light of the hall-lamp Laura looked at me, with white cheeks and startled eyes. “I am half dead with fear,” she said. “Who could it have been?” “We will try to guess tomorrow,” I replied. “In the meantime say nothing to anyone of what we have heard and seen.” “Why not?”