"That's as maybe," was the answer, and then there came a harsh and very disagreeable laugh. I waited for a moment, and then entered the kitchen. Bindloss was alone now; he was bending over the fire, smoking.
"I shall leave early in the morning," I said, "so please have my bill ready for me." I then seated myself near him, drawing up my chair close to the blaze. He looked as if he resented this, but said nothing.
"I am very curious about the deaths which occur in this house," I said, after a pause. "How many did you say there were?"
"That is nothing to you," he answered. "We never wanted you here; you can go when you please."
"I shall go to-morrow morning, but I wish to say something now."
"And what may that be?"
"I don't believe in that story about the place being haunted."
"Oh, you don't, don't you?" He dropped his pipe, and his glittering eyes gazed at me with a mixture of anger and ill-concealed alarm.
"No," I paused, then I said slowly and emphatically, "I went back to the mill even after your warning, and——"
"What?" he cried, starting to his feet.