filled the corner of the room.
As the boiling cloud turned red in the middle, Meredith sat up, one hand reaching for the repaired clock at her side. Reggie would not be too pleased if she broke it again, but she felt a little more secure with it clutched in her fingers.
James’s face peered out at her from the middle of the mist, his lips moving soundlessly, his eyes staring into space.
Meredith decided to try being civil. “I thought you might return,” she said pleasantly.
One arm detached itself from the mist and the fist clenched in the air.
“Yes, I know you’re angry. But since I’m not the cause of your pain, I suggest you calm down a little if you want me to help you.”
Her words took an instant effect. The arm lowered, and the dark red swirls began to settle down into a lovely shade of pink.
She could see all of James now, from head to foot. He was dressed in a flowing white robe, and she was startled to see a piece of rope wrapped around his throat. No wonder he was always in a rage.
“I have one question to ask you,” she said, beginning to feel a little more secure. “If you tell me the truth, then I will try to find out what really happened the night your father was shot.”
The ghost stared back at her, unresponsive.
Meredith took a deep breath. “Did you, or did you not, shoot your father?”
James’s mouth opened in a silent roar of outrage. Once more the mist swirled around in deep red spirals, while both arms shot into the air, the clenched fists pounding each other as if in a fierce battle.
Meredith took a firmer grip on the clock. “I’ll assume you’re protesting your innocence.”
For a second or two longer, James’s eyes burned with fury, then as quickly as he had appeared, he faded into the mist. The pink swirls swallowed him up, then shrunk into a mere wisp of smoke before vanishing.
Meredith let out her breath. She would have liked to ask him a lot more questions, in spite of the fact he scared her to death. If only her powers were stronger.
Once more she tucked herself under the covers. One thing she could be certain of was that James had every intention of continuing to pester her. Besides, there were just too many questions that needed answering. She was now committed to finding out the truth about Lord Stalham’s murder and, perhaps, setting right a grievous miscarriage of justice.
She couldn’t give James back his life. All she could hope for was to clear his name and discover the real culprit. Maybe that would bring the poor man a measure of peace.
The following day Meredith found the students to be unusually subdued. Normally they were in high spirits on a Friday, anticipating the weekend. At first she put it down to the fact that they had been barred from enjoying their usual jaunt to the village, and would have to spend Saturday on the school grounds.
It seemed wherever she went that day, however, small groups of girls stood about whispering among each other, only to break off and scatter as she approached. By the time a rather tense midday meal was over, she felt compelled to voice her concerns to the other tutors.
Sylvia was already in the teacher’s lounge when Meredith entered, followed by Felicity and Essie. Meredith hesitated to mention her misgivings in front of the volatile tutor. Sylvia was apt to panic at the slightest hint of trouble. Nevertheless, if trouble was indeed brewing, then Sylvia should certainly be forewarned.
Meredith wasted no time in coming to the point. “I don’t know if any of you have noticed it, but the students are behaving rather oddly. I have reason to believe they might have something up their sleeves, though I have no idea what that may be. Have any of you heard anything that might possibly shed light on the subject?”
Essie shook her head, while Felicity merely looked blank.
“I have noticed it, too,” Sylvia exclaimed. “I caught a group of students in the lobby whispering to each other. The minute I got
As the boiling cloud turned red in the middle, Meredith sat up, one hand reaching for the repaired clock at her side. Reggie would not be too pleased if she broke it again, but she felt a little more secure with it clutched in her fingers.
James’s face peered out at her from the middle of the mist, his lips moving soundlessly, his eyes staring into space.
Meredith decided to try being civil. “I thought you might return,” she said pleasantly.
One arm detached itself from the mist and the fist clenched in the air.
“Yes, I know you’re angry. But since I’m not the cause of your pain, I suggest you calm down a little if you want me to help you.”
Her words took an instant effect. The arm lowered, and the dark red swirls began to settle down into a lovely shade of pink.
She could see all of James now, from head to foot. He was dressed in a flowing white robe, and she was startled to see a piece of rope wrapped around his throat. No wonder he was always in a rage.
“I have one question to ask you,” she said, beginning to feel a little more secure. “If you tell me the truth, then I will try to find out what really happened the night your father was shot.”
The ghost stared back at her, unresponsive.
Meredith took a deep breath. “Did you, or did you not, shoot your father?”
James’s mouth opened in a silent roar of outrage. Once more the mist swirled around in deep red spirals, while both arms shot into the air, the clenched fists pounding each other as if in a fierce battle.
Meredith took a firmer grip on the clock. “I’ll assume you’re protesting your innocence.”
For a second or two longer, James’s eyes burned with fury, then as quickly as he had appeared, he faded into the mist. The pink swirls swallowed him up, then shrunk into a mere wisp of smoke before vanishing.
Meredith let out her breath. She would have liked to ask him a lot more questions, in spite of the fact he scared her to death. If only her powers were stronger.
Once more she tucked herself under the covers. One thing she could be certain of was that James had every intention of continuing to pester her. Besides, there were just too many questions that needed answering. She was now committed to finding out the truth about Lord Stalham’s murder and, perhaps, setting right a grievous miscarriage of justice.
She couldn’t give James back his life. All she could hope for was to clear his name and discover the real culprit. Maybe that would bring the poor man a measure of peace.
The following day Meredith found the students to be unusually subdued. Normally they were in high spirits on a Friday, anticipating the weekend. At first she put it down to the fact that they had been barred from enjoying their usual jaunt to the village, and would have to spend Saturday on the school grounds.
It seemed wherever she went that day, however, small groups of girls stood about whispering among each other, only to break off and scatter as she approached. By the time a rather tense midday meal was over, she felt compelled to voice her concerns to the other tutors.
Sylvia was already in the teacher’s lounge when Meredith entered, followed by Felicity and Essie. Meredith hesitated to mention her misgivings in front of the volatile tutor. Sylvia was apt to panic at the slightest hint of trouble. Nevertheless, if trouble was indeed brewing, then Sylvia should certainly be forewarned.
Meredith wasted no time in coming to the point. “I don’t know if any of you have noticed it, but the students are behaving rather oddly. I have reason to believe they might have something up their sleeves, though I have no idea what that may be. Have any of you heard anything that might possibly shed light on the subject?”
Essie shook her head, while Felicity merely looked blank.
“I have noticed it, too,” Sylvia exclaimed. “I caught a group of students in the lobby whispering to each other. The minute I got
Similar Books
