"Yes, it will," declared Forrester. "I'm going to do it, with your help."
Green stared. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he protested.
"Now, listen to me," went on Forrester. "On Saturday morning we open our country house. I want you to come up on the noon train with enough baggage to last you all summer, or until we settle this case. You are to be my body-guard when I am home, and watch the house while I am away. Occasionally I may want you to look up certain things for me, but I will promise you right now that I won't ask you to go near that tree again unless I am with you. Our chauffeur has a nice place over the garage and I'll have him give you a room there, so you can be close at hand. Now, that's settled. The noon train, remember. And here's the address."
Forrester tore off a corner of a menu and wrote out directions for reaching "Woodmere."
Green wavered. "Well, I dunno," he said, hesitatingly.
Forrester leaned across the table.
"Green," he said, smiling, "we have a little private stock left in the cellar up there. Our guests are permitted to use it."
Green's eyes twinkled. "That might help to keep them ghosts away. One poison sometimes counteracts another, so I guess one kind o' spirits might chase away the other kind."
"Then the matter is settled?" asked Forrester.
"Sure thing," grinned the mollified detective. "But remember—I've got to have regular protection against ghosts."