When the Judge raised the glass to his lips his hand trembled so violently that he spilled some of the liquor on his clothes. He gulped it down and glanced nervously about the hall.
He placed the glass back on the tray and Aunt Julie Ann, watching the parlour-door like a hawk, started back to the kitchen on a run.
“Wait a moment,” cried the Judge, shuffling to his feet.
“I ain’t gwine stay in here wid dem things in de house,” she answered, halting timidly in the shadows of the door leading into the dining-room.
“Tell Miss Stella I’m not feeling well--I’m going to bed.”
He hesitated a moment. “You’ve said nothing to any one about this ghost business?”
“Hush, man, hush! Don’t talk about dat now!” she whispered. “I tole dat ole whiteheaded Larkin--dat’s all.”
“Well, I want to warn you, don’t mention it to another living soul. I’m beginning to suspect that we’ve been seeing old Major Graham himself!”
“De Lawd er mussy, man, how he bin gittin’ in de house wid all de doors and windows locked an’ bolted?”
“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:
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.”
“Get some more whiskey!” said the Judge. “I’ll go with you”--he added, following her into the dining room, mopping the perspiration from his brow.
“I’ll go up there in a minute and find out the truth!”
“Better keep outen dat attic I tells ye. Dey say dat de ghosts er de livin’ is wuss dan de dead.” They had scarcely passed from the hall when the oak panel again opened and a white masked figure peered through, and quickly entered.