Frederick Wingate laughed. “A boy’s vivid imagination, Doctor. A sudden fear of the dark.”
“I never knew Joe to be afraid of the dark,” Dr. Stone said quietly. “You still have the key, Sweetman? By the way, how did you come into possession of the key?”
“I was thinking of buying,” the farmer explained. “Mr. Rodgers gave me the key so that I could look long at the house. Before that Mr. Wingate had the key.”
The doctor asked: “Were you thinking of buying, Fred?”
“Yes. Rodgers came to me three months ago and offered it for eight thousand dollars. It’s worth far more than that to a man who could use it. With its good lines and its solid construction it has possibilities. However, after looking it over I decided it wouldn’t answer my purpose. I gave the key back to Rodgers two months ago.”
“Rodgers came to me,” Mr. Sweetman added. “I think maybe I will buy, maybe for seven thousand dollars, but I do not tell him. It is bad business to buy quick and pay what is first asked.”
“You won’t want it now,” Dr. Stone said.
“Maybe. First I must think.”
After that there was a silence in the room. Joe looked from his uncle to Frederick Wingate. The artist leaned against the mantel and seemed to find a cynical amusement in watching the man who had come with him. Strained lines had formed suddenly around the blind man’s mouth.
“You are afraid of ghosts, Sweetman?” he said softly.