"De Lawd er mussy, man, how he bin gittin' in de house wid all de doors and windows locked an' bolted?"
"That's a mystery I can't fathom."
"No, ner nobody else. Hit's his sperit I tells ye."
While they were talking thus in the alcove the oak panel under the stairs was softly opened and closed; old Major Graham, dressed with scrupulous care, thin and pale as a corpse, yet erect and dignified, walked slowly across the hall to the foot of the stairs. His lips were muttering inarticulate sounds and his wide staring eyes had the far-off look of the dreamer who lives, breathes and moves, yet sees nothing.
Butler's back was to the Major, and Aunt Julie Ann, hearing the footsteps, was first to see him. She staggered against the wall and gasped:
"God, save us, dar he is now!"
Butler glanced over his shoulder and backed against the huge figure of the cook, trembling.
"Look—look!" he whispered. "It is old Graham. Watch his thin bony fingers grip the rail as he climbs the steps!"
"Hit's his livin' ghost I tell ye!" persisted Aunt Julie Ann. "He'll walk right out on de roof an' step off'n de house des like he does every night—you won't see' 'im again."
