cheerful in town tomorrow. Why, by
Jove, it's ten o'clock already. Have you finished?"

"I could n't choke down another mouthful."

"Well, don't be afraid. They mean well enough, no doubt. Sallie!"

She came gliding in, her back to the door.

"Are you the one who is to show us to our rooms?"

"Yes."

She picked up the lamp and went out, and Mrs. Bernard followed
instantly, evidently afraid to be left in the dark. I followed with
the grips, trailing up the stairs, having seen nothing of Coombs in the
front room. In the upper hall our guide threw open two doors, going
into the rooms and lighting lamps, thus giving glimpses of the
interiors. The one in the corner was the larger, and better furnished.

"This will be yours," I said, placing her valise on the floor. "You
can feel safe enough there with the door locked--yes, there is a
key--and I will be right opposite if you need anything."

She gave me her hand, but I felt it tremble.

"You are still afraid?"

"Yes, I am--but--but I am not going to be such a fool."

As her door closed I turned to the mulatto, who still stood there, lamp
in hand. I was not sleepy, and I wanted most of all to have an
understanding with Coombs. I could not talk with the fellow in the
presence of Mrs. Bernard, for he was the kind to be handled roughly for
results, but now I was ready to probe him to the bottom. "Is the
overseer downstairs?"

"No."

"See here, Sallie," I insisted warmly, "I 'm master of this house and I
want some kind of answer besides yes, and no. Where is he?"

"Ah reckon he's out in one o' ther cabins, sah--he done don't sleep in
the house nohow."

"He does n't sleep here! Why?"

"Ah spect it 's cause he 's afeerd too, 'sah," she replied, her snaky
eyes showing. "Ah 's a voo-doo, an' ah don't care 'bout 'em tall, but
good Lor', dar ain't no white man wants ter stay in des yere house
mor'n one night."

She laughed, a weird, grating laugh, and started downstairs. I stood
still, watching her light disappear. Then, swearing at myself for a
coward, stepped back into my own room, and closed the door.

CHAPTER XII

THE DEAD MAN

This revealment of conditions left me thoroughly puzzled. I was not
frightened at the situation, for I largely attributed the fear shown by
both Pete and Sallie to negro superstition. I could have dismissed
their faith in a haunted house with a smile, and gone to sleep myself
with an easy conscience, confide