eh?'The little old man put his head more on one side,
and rubbed his hands with unspeakable glee.

'I know another case,' said the little old man, when his chuckles had
in some degree subsided. 'It occurred in Clifford's Inn. Tenant of a top
set--bad character--shut himself up in his bedroom closet, and took a
dose of arsenic. The steward thought he had run away: opened the door,
and put a bill up. Another man came, took the chambers, furnished them,
and went to live there. Somehow or other he couldn't sleep--always
restless and uncomfortable. "Odd," says he. "I'll make the other room
my bedchamber, and this my sitting-room." He made the change, and slept
very well at night, but suddenly found that, somehow, he couldn't read
in the evening: he got nervous and uncomfortable, and used to be always
snuffing his candles and staring about him. "I can't make this out,"
said he, when he came home from the play one night, and was drinking a
glass of cold grog, with his back to the wall, in order that he mightn't
be able to fancy there was any one behind him--"I can't make it out,"
said he; and just then his eyes rested on the little closet that had
been always locked up, and a shudder ran through his whole frame from
top to toe. "I have felt this strange feeling before," said he, "I
cannot help thinking there's something wrong about that closet." He made
a strong effort, plucked up his courage, shivered the lock with a blow
or two of the poker, opened the door, and there, sure enough, standing
bolt upright in the corner, was the last tenant, with a little bottle
clasped firmly in his hand, and his face--well!' As the little old
man concluded, he looked round on the attentive faces of his wondering
auditory with a smile of grim delight.

'What strange things these are you tell us of, Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick,
minutely scanning the old man's countenance, by the aid of his glasses.

'Strange!' said the little old man. 'Nonsense; you think them strange,
because you know nothing about it. They are funny, but not uncommon.'

'Funny!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick involuntarily. 'Yes, funny, are they
not?' replied the little old man, with a diabolical leer; and then,
without pausing for an answer, he continued--

'I knew another man--let me see--forty years ago now--who took an old,
damp, rotten set of chambers, in one of the most ancient inns, that had
been shut up and empty for years and years before. There were lots of
old women's stor