"You have not seen Mr. Martinez, Zerlina?" asked Bab, recalling how he had stolen away in the woods when the Gypsy danced for them.

Zerlina bowed coldly, and Jose took off his cavalier hat; but neither said a word, and Bab felt somewhat embarra.s.sed at the silence.

"Wait a moment, Zerlina, and I will ask the major about the fortunes,"

she said, stepping through the French window. Just as she parted the curtain, she turned to say something to Jose, and saw Zerlina quickly hand him a note. Bab's face flushed angrily.

"This business ought to be stopped," she said to herself. "We'll all be slain in our beds some fine night. Why can't Jose be frank? The entire band of Gypsies might be a lot of robbers, for all we know."

The revelers inside were all interested to know that Granny Ann had come at last to tell fortunes, and Zerlina was dispatched at once to bring her grandmother back. When the old woman pa.s.sed through the room on her way to the library, where the fortunes were to be told, she took a rapid survey of everybody there. She examined the girls and boys in their masquerade costumes, looked curiously at Jimmie's bandaged countenance, and finally her eyes rested on Jose leaning on a balcony rail outside.

While the fortunes were being told, there was a concert in the drawing room. Grace sang in her high, sweet soprano voice, followed by another of Zerlina's Gypsy songs. Then Jose was induced to sing a beautiful Spanish love song, and finally Jimmie gave a comic version of "The Old Homestead" in which he himself acted every part.

After the fortunes were told Granny Ann sent word that there was one person she had not seen, and go she would not until she had seen him.

"Who has not yet been in?" demanded the major.

There was no reply.

"Jose, you have not seen her, have you?" asked Mollie.

"No," replied Jose; "I do not wish to go."

Word was sent in to Granny Ann, who sent a message back that she insisted on seeing the young man.

"Oh, go ahead, Jose," urged Stephen. "It's only for a few minutes, and we want to have another dance before bedtime."

Jose bowed and disappeared from the room. Soon after Mollie touched Bab on the arm.

"Bab," she whispered, "come out on the porch. I have something to tell you."

The two girls stole out onto the moonlit piazza, while Mollie continued in a low voice: "I know I should not have done it, but I followed Jose into the library, by the dining-room door, and hid behind a curtain. I was curious to see what Granny Ann would do. He had hardly got into the room before she commenced talking in a loud voice. She spoke in a foreign language, but she seemed terribly angry, and shook her fist in his face. He was quite gentle with her, and just stood there, pale and quiet. I felt so sorry for him. Once I thought she would strike him, but he never flinched or dodged. What do you suppose it means, Bab, dear?"

"I don't know, Mollie," replied Barbara, "There is some mystery about Jose. Something happened to-day that put him in a very unfortunate light, but I'd rather not tell you until to-morrow. Don't dance with him any more to-night, but be kind to him, little sister," Bab added, "for I do feel sorry for him."

CHAPTER XIX-A RECOGNITION

The masqueraders had separated for the night; Bab, however, had asked to speak with the major before he went to his room. For half an hour she was closeted with him in his library. The time had arrived to tell him everything she knew about Jose.

The major had listened to her attentively. He had felt reluctance to believe anything against a guest, just on a mere chance resemblance, but certainly the circle was closing in around Jose.

"Do you think we had better do anything about it to-night?" he asked the girl, almost childishly. He felt obliged to ask advice in this very difficult situation, and who could give any better counsel than this fine, young woman, who had been able to keep a secret, and who was so wholesome and sweet with all her reserve?

"I don't see what you could do, Major, in case he admitted he was guilty. You couldn't arrest him very well to-night, unless you wanted to bind his arms and feet and take him to the nearest town. I don't believe he has any idea of running away, because he doesn't know we suspect him.

At least he only vaguely knows it."

"And, after all," said the kindly old major, "it's a pity to rout him out of his comfortable bed to-night. We will give the poor fellow another good night's rest, and take one ourselves, too. Shall we not, little woman?"

"Yes, indeed, Major," agreed Barbara, looking into his kindly, troubled eyes with respect and admiration. "And who knows? Maybe, in the morning, he can explain everything."

"Indeed, my dear, I hope so," he replied, opening the door for her and bowing good-night as if she had been Miss Sallie herself.

As Barbara started up the long staircase she felt lonely. The hall below looked vast and dark. Only a dim light was burning and every door was closed. Emerging from the shadows around the staircase she might have been a ghost of one of the early Ten Eycks in her old-fashioned peach-colored silk, with its full trailing skirt and pointed bodice. She hurried a little and wished she had got over the long s.p.a.ce of hall which lay between her and her room; but she had scarcely taken a dozen steps before the door behind her opened. She stopped and looked back, thinking perhaps it was one of the servants waiting to put out the lights.

Standing in the doorway was a very old man. He carried a candle in one hand, and was peering at her in the darkness with that same expression of wonder and surprise on his face that she had remembered to have seen before, for this was their third encounter, once in the woods, once in the library, and now.

"Barbara! Barbara Thurston!" he called in a quavering voice. "I have been waiting for you so long, so many years. I am old now and you are still young." He stretched out his arms and came toward her.

Bab flew and almost ran into Jose, who opened his door at that moment.

When they recovered themselves the old man was gone.

"Which way did he go?" asked Jose.

Bab pointed to the door without speaking, and, still trembling from fright, burst into her own room, where a strange scene was taking place.

Three high-backed chairs were arranged in a row. Ruth in a dressing gown was crouching behind them, while Mollie and Grace sat hand in hand on the bed, giving little gasps of excitement and horror.

"This is the clump of bushes," Ruth was saying, "and the three fights took place here and here, and here," she went on, marking the spots with her toe. "Stephen and his man, who was none other than the giant tramp, fought straight out from the shoulder like this," and she hit the air furiously with her doubled fists. "Then came Alfred and his friend. They didn't hit. They gripped and rolled over and over in the dust. And last of all, poor Jimmie, who, in five minutes, lay like a warrior taking his rest."

"Why, Ruth Stuart," interrupted Bab, "I thought we were not to tell."

"Sh-h! Don't make so much noise, Bab. Aunt Sallie thinks we were safe in bed long ago. I'm not betraying confidence. Stephen told me I could tell Mollie and Grace if he could tell Martin. But, Bab, dear, what is the matter? Have you seen a ghost?"

"Yes," replied Bab, "or rather the next thing to one. Really, girls, I'm getting more than my fair share this time. Ruth was in the fight, of course, but none of you have seen the old man who haunts the place, and I have seen him three times. He seems to be a perfectly harmless old man, but it does give one a start to meet him at midnight in a dark hall."

"Why, Barbara, are you dreaming? What does it mean?" cried Mollie, seizing her sister's hand and pulling her over on the bed beside them.

"Why haven't you told us before?" she added with a sisterly reproach.

"It's no fair keeping secrets all the time."

"I am tired of secrets, too," said Bab, "I started with major and I'll just finish the thing before I lay me down this night to rest."

When Bab had concluded her ghostly tale the girls were really frightened. They tried the doors, opened all the closets and wardrobes and peered under the beds of both rooms.

"No one could climb up to these windows," exclaimed Mollie. "But suppose there should be a secret door into one of these rooms?"

"What a horrible idea, Mollie Thurston!" exclaimed Ruth.

There was a sharp tap on the door. The four girls jumped as if they had been shot, and rushed together like frightened chickens.

"Girls," said Miss Sallie's voice, "go to bed this instant!"

"Right away, Aunt Sallie, dear," answered her niece. When they were comfortably tucked in for the night, Ruth said to Bab:

"How do you suppose he knew your name?"

"I don't know," replied her friend, "unless I had a twin ancestor."