"'Put it that I don't like old houses, doctor,' she said finally.
"'Ah! House haunted?' I suggested, to tease her a little.
"She turned on me.
"'You said it, not I,' she answered, 'but it is true. The house is haunted, doctor, and if I lived there a day longer, I couldn't do my work. I didn't wish to discuss it—you know we don't believe in that—but you meant to do me a service. It's a crime to rent that house. It's slimy. It crawls.'
"'Slimy!' I cried. 'Why the agent told me that the cellar was new cemented, all whitewashed, every room new papered, fresh matting, hard wood on the lower floor, and I attended to the plumbing myself! It was gone over thoroughly three years ago—there must have been a thousand dollars put into it. It hadn't been lived in for years before that. Slimy!'
"'You don't understand me,' she said quietly.
"'For heaven's sake, what haunts it, then? Who's the ghost?' I cried testily.
"'Evil,' she said slowly, 'evil thought, evil lives ... you breathe it in ... it tangles you ... another night there ... I should have no more power, absolutely—I could help nobody. I must ask you not to refer to it again, please. I should not have mentioned it. How much do I owe you?'
"'You owe me nothing, of course,' I said shortly. 'I'll return you the amount of your cheque this afternoon. I'll move into that house, myself.'
"'You will be making a mistake,' she said very placidly, and left the office.