“Yes,” said Gray, “a famous fire; can you tell where it is?”
“I think,” said the boy, “it lies somewhere over the marshes.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes; and I should say it was Forest’s old haunted house, only nobody lives there but the ghosts.”
“Forest’s house,” repeated Gray, in an assumed careless tone. “Indeed I should not wonder if you were right.”
“I hope it is,” said the boy. “It was an old miserable-looking place. You’ve heard about it, sir?”
“A little—a little,” replied Gray.
“There was a murder there once,” said the boy.
“Yes,—yes, I—know,” said Gray.
“Forest, you see, sir, lived in the house. He built it, you see, sir, and he wasn’t content with what he had, so he murdered a poor fellow, who they say had a thousand pounds belonging to somebody who employed him to collect rents, you see, sir.”