“I am afraid,” the farmer answered heavily.
“Yet you might buy?”
“It is good land. I could tear down the house and sell it away, some here and some there.” Joe saw greed gleam in the dull eyes. “Maybe with ghost talk around it will come a better price. Maybe I could yet buy for three thousand dollars.”
“Business first, Sweetman,” the doctor said pleasantly. He snapped a finger, and at once Lady arose; and Joe, his heart pounding, hurried to get the dog’s harness. Frederick Wingate still leaned against the mantel above the fireplace.
“Going ghost hunting, Doctor?”
“You can never tell what you’ll find on a hunt,” the doctor answered dryly. “Coming?”
“This is the year 1934,” the artist said, amused again. “Ghosts have gone out of fashion. I have letters to write.”
The doctor slipped the harness on the dog. Lady, alert, waited beside him for the signal to go. Mr. Sweetman had lumbered to his feet.
“Care for it, Joe?” Dr. Stone asked.
The boy felt the chill again in his spine. And yet——