Disappointed, but helpless, as Eve closed her door upon the would-be visitor, Norma went back and told Milly, who was waiting and listening.
"I don't like it," Norma said, "for by eight o'clock she can cook up a story to scare us all! I think two ought to sleep in that room at once."
"Go to bed," said Milly, sleepily. "And don't you suspect Eve Carnforth of making up a yarn or even dressing up the truth! She isn't that sort."
As to Eve's veracity, opinions were divided.
She told the whole story, directly after breakfast, to the whole group, the servants being well out of earshot.
She told it simply and straightforwardly, just as it had happened to her. Her sincerity and accurate statements stood a fire of questions, a volley of sarcastic comments and a few assertions of unbelief.
Professor Hardwick believed implicitly all she said, and encouraged her to dilate upon her experiences. But in nowise did she add to them, she merely repeated or emphasized the various points without deviation from her first narrative.
Norma and Braye went for a walk, and frankly discussed it.
"Of course, Eve colours it without meaning to," declared Braye; "it couldn't have happened, you know. We were all locked in, and Lord knows none of us could have put that stunt over even if we had wanted to."
"Of course not; that locking in business was unnecessary, but it does prove that no human agency was at work. That leaves only Eve's imagination--or--the real thing."
"It wasn't the real thing," and Braye shook his head. "There ain't no such animal! But Eve's imagination is----"
"No. Mr. Braye, you're on the wrong tack. Eve's imagination is _not_ the sort that conjures up phantoms. Vernie's might do that, or Mrs. Landon's,--but not Miss Carnforth's. She is psychic,--I know, because I am myself----"
"Miss Cameron,--Norma,----" and Braye became suddenly insistent, "don't _you_ sleep in that infernal room, will you? Promise me you won't."
"Why?" and the big blue eyes looked at him in surprise. "As Sentimental Tommy used to say, 'I would fell like to!' Why shouldn't I?"
"Oh, I don't want you to," and Braye looked really distressed. "Promise me you won't--please."
"Why do you care? 'Fraid I'll be carried off by the Shawled Woman?"