“Yes, but as it is the ghost of a pretty woman Tom is glad to sleep alone in the house. He always had an eye for beauty and he thinks he’ll catch a glimpse of the ghost.”
“No, but I’ll catch a hundred and fifty dollars of you fellows’ money,” said Tom.
“You’re dead sure of that, eh?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’ll press the bet,” said the detective, “and make it a hundred you don’t sleep in the house from two a.m. until daylight.”
“I’ll take it.”
The men sat there discussing the remarkable sounds. Tom Atwood, as it was afterward learned, had been informed that when the wind came from a certain direction pretty strange sounds were often heard. He did not tell the latter fact to his companions, but let them talk and wonder what it all meant, and congratulated himself upon his easy winning of two hundred dollars, and he said:
“I did not know you fellows were so superstitious.”
“Oh, you are awful brave.”
“I am willing to take a few more bets.”