“I’m with you,” responded Kelly, with alacrity.
When they’d both gone out of the room, Chick again turned to his chief, with a grin:
“Isn’t this the queerest joint you ever struck, chief?”
“It seems so. At the same time, I have more serious work here than to speculate on the intentions of footmen, or even of the men who have the privilege of drinking champagne ordered by my old friend, the late Howard Milmarsh. I made him a promise the last time I saw him alive, and I’m going to keep my word. Follow me, and I’ll show you something more about this house that you may regard as curious.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
GHOSTLY VISITANTS.
Wonderingly, Chick followed his employer along the dark corridor, lighted at intervals by the electric flash, until they came to some more winding stairs leading upward.
“There seems to be a secret house within a house here, chief,” muttered Chick. “A great place for ghosts, I should say.”
Carter permitted himself a low laugh, and turned to place a hand on Chick’s shoulder, as he replied: