“'What do you mean?' I asked.
“'The man!'
“'The man! What man?”
“'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was shining. He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a lad that's in need of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa. He was tired, you see, and—I once had a son of my own.'
“She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could feel the pressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.
“'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it! They took him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'
“She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.
“'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when—they took him! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and the moon—it was gone. And then—' She looked up at me again and whispered: 'And then I heard a bell—a very beautiful bell—a church bell, sir? But you know, don't you? You are the great Dr. Holcomb. That's why you went into the cellar, wasn't it? Because you know!'
“Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:
“'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good enough to leave me to myself?'