"I have had an uneasy night in the room you assigned me, sir; I may say indeed, a miserable night," I said.
"Pray," resumed I, interrupting his apologetic expressions of surprise, "has any person but myself ever complained of—of being disturbed in that room?"
"Never," he assured me.
I had suspected the ghastly old practical joke, so often played off by landlords in story-books, and fancied I might have been deliberately exposed to the chances of a "haunted chamber." But there was no acting in the frank look and honest denial of mine host.
"It is a very strange thing," said I hesitating; and "I do not see why I should not tell you what has occurred. And as I could swear, if necessary, to the perfect reality of the entire scene, it behoves you, I think, to sift the matter carefully. For myself, I can not entertain a doubt as to the nature of the truly terrible visitation to which I have been subjected; and, were I in your position, I should transfer my establishment at once to some other house as well suited to the purpose, and free from the dreadful liabilities of this."
I proceeded to detail the particulars of the occurence of the past night, to which he listened with nearly as much horror as I recited them with.
"Mervyn's tomb!" he repeated after me; "why that's down there in L——r: the churchyard you can see from the window of the room you slept in."
"Let us go there instantly," I exclaimed, with an almost feverish anxiety to ascertain whether we should discover in the place indicated any thing corroborative of the authenticity of my vision.
"Well, I shan't say no," said he, obviously bracing himself for an effort of courage; "but we'll take Faukes, and James the helper, with us; and please, sir, you'll not mention the circumstance as has occurred to either on 'em."
I gave him the assurance he asked for, and in a few minutes our little party were in full march upon the point of interest.