Morton's glance instructed Kate, and she said: "Very well. We will go dress while the men finish their coffee. Come, Mrs. Lambert."

Mrs. Lambert rose silently and the three women left the room together with an effect of haste.

No sooner were they out of the room than Morton turned to his guest with most serious look and tone. "Come to my study, Mr. Lambert, I want a few very private words with you."

The miner followed his host with mild wonder expressed on his face, and as the door closed behind them and they were secure of being overheard, he remarked, with a chuckle: "You headed off old Daddy McLeod out there. First it was Clarke and then Daddy. I thought he had her this time."

Morton ignored this remark and, with most decisive utterance, said: "You must take your wife and daughter out of town by the very next train. Clarke has killed himself, and Viola will be the centre of a flaming sensation to-morrow morning. She must be taken away to-night."

Lambert remained standing, perfectly rigid, for a few moments then slowly seated himself. "Was that your trouble over the 'phone?"

"Yes."

"Who told you?"

"A reporter 'phoning from Pratt's house apparently."

"When did it happen?"

"He said an hour ago. That may mean more or less--A fiend could not have planned a more inclusive revenge. We will all be involved in it.

If he died by poison we may even be accused of killing him. They are already in pursuit of you, and the police may arrive at any moment. At the least we will all be summoned before the coroner." He paused a moment. "But that isn't all. I fear the effect of this news on Viola's mind."

Lambert's eyes lost their keen glitter, and his facial muscles fell slack. He spoke in a low voice weighted with deepest conviction. "_He will manifest._" Then, as a light came into his eyes, he exclaimed: "He was trying to control her just now!"

Morton ignored this remark. "If we can keep this news from her for a few days, I defy any of her so-called 'controls' to affect her."

Lambert stirred uneasily in his chair. "I don't know about that.

Clarke had a strong hold on her."

"He is dead. He has done his worst," responded Morton. "I tell you, it is your business to get as far from the city to-night as you can and keep ahead of the news if possible."

"That won't do any good. She is clairvoyant. She'll know of it."

"She didn't know you were coming to-day, did she?"

"No."

"And she has no knowledge yet of Clarke's death. Her attack at the table may have been, as she says, only a feeling of faintness.

Besides, he's been dead two hours, and these manifestations always take place at the exact moment of death, do they not?"

Lambert brightened. "That's so! But I'm scared of what'll happen if he _should_ manifest."

"Be a.s.sured. He can no more 'manifest,' as you call it, than a dead dog. Keep the newspapers from your wife and daughter, and it will be a long time before they learn of his death through any occult channel. I stake my reputation on that."

"I wish I felt as certain of that as you do," the miner answered.

"I've seen so many impossible things happen. I'm kind o' shaky. I wish I could have your help." He rose with a shiver of dread. "You're right. I see that. We've got to get out of here, but it won't do to go back home."

"Take ship and go abroad."

"I can't do that. I can't leave my business so long." He paced up and down. "Suppose I had a telegram to meet a man in Montreal--a mining man."

"A good idea!" exclaimed Morton. "You could cross the border before the news could overtake you. The Canadian papers will make little of the suicide. But will your people go?"

"They'll have to go," replied Lambert, firmly. "Leave that to me." He took a telegram from among several old ones in his pocket. "I've just received this, you understand?"

Kate knocked, and called; "We're all ready, Morton?"

He opened the door. "Come in, Kate, I want to talk with you. I'm afraid our theatre-party is off. Mr. Lambert has received a very important message which may take him out of town."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" cried Kate. "Can't you wait till to-morrow?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Lambert. "Looks like I'd have to go to-night, and I want the girls to go along with me." And so saying, with the telegram open in his hand, he went out into the sitting-room where Viola and her mother were standing dressed for the carriage.

"Girls," he called, persuasively. "Don't you want to go to Montreal?"

"When?" inquired Viola.

"To-night."

"Oh, not to-night! We want to go to the theatre. Wait till to-morrow."

Kate was about to join in this protest when Morton drew her into his study and shut the door. "Don't stop them!" he said, almost fiercely.

"They must go."

"Do you mean to escape Clarke?"

"Yes, Clarke, or rather his ghost."

"His ghost! What do you mean?" she asked, with startled eyes.

"He has killed himself--hush, now! they must not know it, and they must flee. Don't you see that this may undo all my plans for the girl's redemption and may enslave her more deeply than ever? The papers will be full of Clarke to-morrow morning. Pratt's wealth, my connection, with an inst.i.tution, insures a tremendous scare-head. The mother will be conscious-wrung, and the whole weight of the infernal tragedy will crush down on Viola. The only possible respite for her is to cross the border into Canada, outrun the newsmongers, and trust in time to heal her mental derangements."

Kate's eyes expanded with the same fear that filled Lambert. "You don't suppose he will be able to haunt her? Was that what happened at the table?"

"No, not in the sense you mean. He is dead, and I have no fear of his ghost, but the memory of him will torture her soul; and if she _believes_ that he is able to come to her, the belief will be almost as tragic as the fact."

"Morton, it is a test!" she exclaimed, with breathless solemnity. "If there is any truth in spiritualism, he will manifest himself to her and you cannot prevent it."

"I know it is a test and I welcome it! I stake all that I am on the issue. She was at her merriest when he was dying. She has no hint of his deed at this moment, and with all her clairvoyance I am perfectly certain she will not be able to read what is in our minds if you can restrain your tongue. If you can't do that, I beg of you to stay in your room." He was harsh and curt in his tone; and she shrank from him. "Her mental health, her sanity, may be in peril."

"I can keep silence," she replied, "But, oh, Morton, think of that poor girl--up there in some bleak hotel in Canada, with only these two old people! Suppose _he does_ come to her there, what can they do?

Wouldn't it be better to keep her here--let her learn it here--where you can help her?"

"And be haled before the coroner, to be charged perhaps with poisoning Clarke, or some other equally monstrous thing? No, I have been all over the ground, and I tell you there is no other way. She must go to-night. The police may arrive at any moment."

"Then you must go with her," she retorted, with a decision almost equal to his own. "She needs you."

"No, no. I can't do that," he replied, impatiently, almost angrily. "I would be accused of abducting her. It is utterly out of the question."

Kate, knowing that she was asking a good deal, went resolutely on: "She has no one but you to lean upon. She trusts you, and she ought to have some strong, sane person on whom to rely. I would be worse than useless up there. I am scared out of my wits at thought of Clarke's possible revenge upon _her_! Besides, by going with her you will escape some of the notoriety about to thrust upon you."