Shall I ever forget the sound of his footsteps then, as he raced over the rocks, looking back at us with his wild eyes, and the blood streaming down his face--running and running until he stumbled and fell?
The sound of his running footsteps as he clattered over the rocks have haunted me day and night ever since.

I heard them again to-night." "I tell you again that he is dead.

What! Do you think that you could hear footsteps on a night like this ?" The man stepped quickly across to the nearest window and flung it open.

The room was filled with rushing wind, and the window curtains flapped noisily.

"And where would he be running to?
Do you suppose he could climb up here from outside ?" "It might have been his spirit," murmured the other.
"Spirits don't cross the ocean, and their footsteps don't clatter," responded Thalassa coldly.