“Oh, they never come—that is, things never happen—when any one is in the house,” Mrs. Floyd hastened to add. “It’s always when the place is left to itself.”
“Then the—er—well, call it ghost, for want of a better name,” said Jack—“then the ghost must keep watch to know when we go out.”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Mrs. Floyd. “It’s very annoying, and I do hope you will find out what does it and stop it.”
“We will,” Jack declared. “I’m sure, after all, we’ll find out that it is due to perfectly natural causes.”
“That’s what I believe,” said Walter. “I wonder if it could be an earthquake?”
“Earthquake?” echoed the others.
“Yes,” Walter went on. “You know that queer noise which Cora, Belle and I seem to have heard to the exclusion of you others? Well, that was a sort of rumbling of the earth. It might have been a slight shock, a reaction from a distant quake. Such things have been known to happen. And if there was one there might well be another. If the bungalow shook hard enough the chairs might have been upset as we found them.”
Jack shook his head.
“Your theory won’t hold water,” he said. “If there was a hard enough shock to knock over chairs and tables, the dishes in the closets would have been broken.”
“I think so, too,” declared Paul. “The earthquake won’t account for it, Walter.”