“No prem—oh, hold my head, somebody!” groaned Parker.
“But we’ve got to buy the furniture,” continued Mrs. Robinson.
“Ah!” Parker brisked up. “I knew there was a catch!”
“For fifty pounds. And it’s beautifully furnished!”
“I give it up,” said Parker. “The present occupants must be lunatics with a taste for philanthropy.”
Mrs. Robinson was looking a little troubled. A little pucker appeared between her dainty brows.
“It is queer, isn’t it? You don’t think that—that—the place is haunted?”
“Never heard of a haunted flat,” declared Parker decisively.
“N-o.” Mrs. Robinson appeared far from convinced. “But there were several things about it all that struck me as—well, queer.”
“For instance——” I suggested.