escape all the smoke and traffic, and near enough to make shopping easy.
The only obstacles were the shadows--the strange, enigmatical shadows I
had seen in the hall and passages, and the figure of the walker. Dare I
take a house that knew such visitors? At first I said no, and then yes.
Something, I could not tell what, urged me to say yes. I felt that a
very grave issue was at stake--that a great wrong connected in some
manner with the mysterious figure awaited righting, and that the hand
of Fate pointed at me as the one and only person who could do it.

"Are you sure the house isn't haunted?" I demanded, as we slowly rolled
away from the iron gate, and I leaned back in my seat to light my pipe.

"Haunted!" Mr. Baldwin scoffed, "why, I thought you didn't believe in
ghosts--laughed at them."

"No more I do believe in them," I retorted, "but I have children, and we
know how imaginative children are."

"I can't undertake to stop their imaginations."

"No, but you can tell me whether anyone else has imagined anything
there. Imagination is sometimes very infectious."

"As far as I know, then, no; leastways, I have not heard tell of it."

"Who was the last tenant?"

"Mr. Jeremiah Dance."

"Why did he leave?"

"How do I know? Got tired of being there, I suppose."

"How long was he there?"

"Nearly three years."

"Where is he now?"

"That's more than I can say. Why do you wish to know?"

"Why!" I repeated. "Because it is more satisfactory to me to hear about
the house from someone who has lived in it. Has he left no address?"

"Not that I know of, and it's more than two years since he was here."

"What! The house has been empty all that time?"

"Two years is not very long. Houses--even town houses--are frequently
unoccupied for longer than that. I think you'll like it."

I did not speak again till the drive was over, and we drew up outside
the landlord's house. I then said, "Let me have an agreement. I've made
up my mind to take it. Three years and the option to stay on."

That was just like me. Whatever I did, I did on the spur of the moment,
a mode of procedure that often led me into difficulties.

A month later and my wife, children, servants, and I were all ensconced
in the Crow's Nest.

That was in the beginning of October. Well, the month passed by, and
November was fairly in before anything remarkable happened. It then came
about in this fashion.

Jennie, my eldest child, a self-willed and