As Demorest's wandering eyes at last became fixed upon it, he fancied he could trace the faint outlines of a pale face, the lower part of which was hidden by the folds of the serape.
There certainly was the forehead, the curve of the dark eyebrows, the shadow of a nose, and even as he looked more steadily, a glistening of the eyes upturned to the moonlight.

A sudden chill seized him.

It was a horrible fancy, but it looked as might have looked the dead face of Edward Blandford! He started and ran quickly down the steps of the veranda.

A slight wind at the same moment moved the long leaves and tendrils of a vine nearest him and sent a faint wave through the garden.
He reached the cactus; its fantastic bulk stood plainly before him, but nothing more.
"Whar are ye runnin' to ?" said the inquiring voice of Ezekiel from the veranda.
"I thought I saw some one in the garden," returned Demorest, quietly, satisfied of the illusion of his senses, "but it was a mistake." "It mout and it moutn't," said Ezekiel, dryly.

"Thar's nothin' to keep any one out.