but my room is full," said the girl, sharply.

"It would go in that odd little recess by the fireplace," continued the
unmoved Mr. Tredgold. "We tried to get a small table for it before you
came, but we couldn't see anything we fancied. I promised the captain
I'd keep my eyes open for something."

Miss Drewitt looked at him with growing indignation, and wondered whether
Mr. Chalk had added her to his list of the victims of Mr. Tredgold's
blandishments.

"Why not buy it for yourself?" she demanded.

"No money," said Mr. Tredgold, shaking his head. "You forget that I lost
two pounds to Chalk the other day, owing to your efforts."

"Well, I don't wish for it," said Miss Drewitt, firmly. "Please don't
say anything to my uncle about it."

Mr. Tredgold looked disappointed. "As you please, of course," he
remarked.

"Old things always seem a little bit musty," said the girl, softening a
little. "I, should think that I saw the ghosts of dead and gone players
sitting round the table. I remember reading a story about that once."

"Well, what about the other things?" said Mr. Tredgold. "Look at those
old chairs, full of ghosts sitting piled up in each other's laps--there's
no reason why you should only see one sitter at a time. Think of that
beautifully-carved four-poster."

"My uncle bought that," said Miss Drewitt, somewhat irrelevantly.

"Yes, but I got it for him," said Mr. Tredgold. "You can't pick up a
thing like that at a moment's notice--I had my eye on it for years; all
the time old Brown was bedridden, in fact. I used to go and see him and
take him tobacco, and he promised me that I should have it when he had
done with it."

"Done with it?" repeated the girl, in a startled voice. "Did--did he get
another one, then?"

[Illustration: 'Done with it?' repeated the girl, in a startled voice.]

Mr. Tredgold, roused from the pleasurable reminiscences of a collector,
remembered himself suddenly. "Oh, yes, he got another one," he said,
soothingly.

"Is--is he bedridden now?" inquired the girl.

"I haven't seen him for some time," said Mr. Tredgold, truthfully. "He
gave up smoking and--and then I didn't go to see him, you know."

"He's dead," said Miss Drewitt, shivering. "He died in---- Oh, you are
horrible!"

"That carving--" began Mr. Tredgold.

"Don't talk about it, please," said the indignant Miss Drewitt. "I can't
understand why my uncle should have listened to your advice at all; you
m