“I have not passed through Great Porter Square for a long time,” said the gentleman, “and I was not aware that a board was up. I was directed to come to you by a friend, who told me you were the agent.”
“Do you wish to take the house?” asked Mr. Stapleton, looking with some suspicion upon his prospective client.
“I should have no objection,” said the gentleman, “If I can have it on my own terms——”
“On any terms,” interrupted Mr. Stapleton, a little too eagerly, and adding, in correction of his over-haste, “that is, for a certain time—after which, of course, we expect a fair rent. The prejudice against the place must wear away one time or another.”
“But the murder remains,” observed the gentleman, sadly; “time will not wear that away.”
“True,” said Mr. Stapleton, coughing; “nothing can wear that away. But I refer to the sentiment, the feeling, the prejudice.”
“You interrupted me just now,” said the gentleman, coming back to the practical. “I was about to say that I should have no objection to take the house if I can have it on my own terms and conditions. By ‘terms’ I don’t mean money. I have no doubt we shall agree upon the question of rent.”
“We will put the house in repair for you,” said Mr. Stapleton; “you can choose your own paper, and we will give it three good coatings of paint outside. In fact, anything you can suggest we shall be most happy to consider.”
“I have nothing to suggest,” said the gentleman, “and I do not propose to put you to the expense of a shilling for repairs. I will take the house just as it is, if my conditions are complied with.”