Miss Cornelia and Anderson, rushing in from the hall and the
billiard room respectively, each with a lighted candle, found her
gasping and clutching at the table for support.
"For the love of heaven, what's wrong?" cried Miss Cornelia
irritatedly. The coffeepot she was carrying in her other hand
spilled a portion of its boiling contents on Lizzie's shoe and
Lizzie screamed anew and began to dance up and down on the
uninjured foot.
"Oh, my foot--my foot!" she squealed hysterically. "My foot!"
Miss Cornelia tried to shake her back to her senses.
"My patience! Did you yell like that because you stubbed your toe?"
"You scalded it!" cried Lizzie wildly. "It went up the staircase!"
"Your toe went up the staircase?"
"No, no! An eye--an eye as big as a saucer! It ran right up that
staircase--" She indicated the alcove with a trembling forefinger.
Miss Cornelia put her coffeepot and her candle down on the table
and opened her mouth to express her frank opinion of her factotum's
sanity. But here the detective took charge.
"Now see here," he said with some sternness to the quaking Lizzie,
"stop this racket and tell me what you saw!"
"A ghost!" persisted Lizzie, still hopping around on one leg. "It
came right through that door and ran up the stairs--oh--" and she
seemed prepared to scream again as Dale, white-faced, came in from
the hall, followed by Billy and Brooks, the latter holding still
another candle.
"Who screamed?" said Dale tensely.
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