Mrs. Emerson's face acquired the expression of a hunting hound.
"Have you?" she asked in an intense whisper.
"Yes, I have. I don't want any more of it."
"Before you came here?"
"Yes; before I was married—when I was quite a girl."
Mrs. Meserve had not married young. Mrs. Emerson had mental calculations when she heard that.
"Did you really live in a house that was—" she whispered fearfully.
Mrs. Meserve nodded solemnly.
"Did you really ever—see—anything—"
Mrs. Meserve nodded.