“You bet! Here they are, now,—they seem in good spirits.”
The crowd came down the stairs and into the great hall, laughing at some quip of Wise’s. Ever since the day of the two deaths a sombre gloom had pervaded the whole place, and smiles had been few. The sound of laughter came as a shock to the Landons, but the cheery face of Penny Wise betokened only wholesome good nature, and not flippant heartlessness.
“Old Montgomery knew how to build a house,” he commented, looking at the finely curving staircase, and its elaborate balusters. “Living rooms nowadays are all very well, but these great entrance halls are finer places to congregate. You spend much of your time here, I’m sure. The worst part is, they’re difficult to light properly,—by daylight, I mean. And, you’ve no electrics here, have you?”
“No,” replied Landon, “only kerosene and candles. You see, the place has been unoccupied for years.”
“Haunted houses are apt to be,——”
“Reputed haunted houses,” corrected the Professor.
“There are no others,” and Wise grinned. “All reputed haunted houses have nothing to haunt them but their repute. I mean, the story of their ghost is all the ghost they have.”
“But I saw the ghost here,” and Eve spoke with a quiet dignity that defied contradiction.
“Of course you did,” Wise assented. “The ghost came purposely to be seen.”
“Did you ever see one, Mr. Wise?”