“What do you think the vision was, doctor?” he continued in a low tone.
“Only an optical illusion, caused, perhaps, by stooping over the trunk. But she must have change; take her to her mother as you promised.”
The next morning husband and wife were on their way to Philadelphia, taking nothing but a few household treasures prized by Mrs. Farnsworth, and “My Lady’s Manor,” handsomely furnished, was placed for lease or rent in the hands of an agent.
His advertisements spoke in glowing terms of the place, and applications were numerous. The most eligible of these was accepted and a family who had never lived in the country took possession, delighted with “My Lady’s Manor” and everything connected with it.
In two weeks they were back in the city, declaring they would not take the place as a gift and be compelled to live there; the little old lady had paid them two visits and they would not wait for a third.
“My Lady’s Manor” was again upon the market at reduced rent, and again a Baltimore family became its occupants, but remained less than a week.
Mr. Reginald Farnsworth who, with his wife, had returned to San Francisco, notified his agent to make no further effort to rent the dwelling, but to close it and put the keys in the care of the servants, who were asked to remain in the quarters.
“My Lady’s Manor” had now furnished the neighborhood with four items of discussion: “What caused the death of Joshua Farnsworth?” “Who was the stranger?” “How did he escape from the roof?” “Why did the spectre represent Mrs. Farnsworth instead of her husband?”
These questions could not be answered, and the superstitious ones of the community avoided the place after nightfall and in their vocabulary it was spoken of as “the haunted house.”