"Were you expecting a caller last night?" he asked calmly.
Coolidge wheeled about, startled out of his self-control.
"A caller! Of course not. What put that in your head?"
"Because I had one, in that room you say you always occupied. The visitor vanished as soon as I was seen, and the thought occurred to me just now that you might have been the one sought."
"Perfectly absurd, West. You must have had a night-mare. What did she look like?"
"Oh, I only had a glimpse in the moon-light; resembled a ghost more than anything else."
"And just about what it was," with a laugh of relief. "Some dream you better forget about. Come along; they are waiting on us."
They passed up the steps together; and into the pleasant breakfast room, where the remainder of the company were already gathered. Coolidge was again perfectly at his ease, genially greeting the guests, and had apparently already dismissed the incident from his mind. Evidently even West did not consider it of any serious importance; he had clearly enough not recognized the intruder, and either decided the whole affair a freak of imagination, or else, at the worst, some midnight escapade of a servant. But West's mind had in reality settled on a point which Coolidge overlooked. He had gained the very information desired. He had carefully refrained from even suggesting the sex of his mysterious visitor. Percival Coolidge knew, without being told, that the caller was a woman. Then he also knew who that woman was.