trees, was silent and seemingly deserted, even by the ghost. There were no more queer blue flames, no more hollow groans and clanking noises.
"I didn't think to look and see if the other auto lamp was in that room where poor Mollie was," said Grace. "Did you?"
"Yes," spoke Betty. "I looked. It was gone."
"We had better not all go under that window at once," suggested Mr. Blackford, as they neared the casement with the bent bars. "Let me go alone, with the light, and I'll see if I can make out any footprints."
Carefully he examined, and then he gave a joyful exclamation.
"It's all right!" he cried. "There are the marks of but one person's shoes, and they are your friend's, I'm sure—for they are small. It plainly shows where she let herself down out of the window."
"Oh, how glad I am!" cried Betty. "But where is she now? Can you tell which way she went?"
"Only for a short distance," answered Mr. Blackford, as he flashed the rays of the lamp to and fro. "Then comes grass, and I am not sufficiently good on the trail to track a person
