ng the coast. Seeing
this old grey mansion, and thinking there might be some story in
connexion with its early days, I have taken the liberty of calling."

He looked at me curiously, as though he suspected me of some sinister
motive, and his black eyes glittered.

"Have you heard anything which would lead you to think this house had a
story? or have you come here out of pure speculation?" he said,
brusquely.

"I suspected there must be legends about a house as old as this," I
replied, "and a man we met some distance from here told us
that--that----"

"You need not go further," he said, grimly, "I know all the stories
that are afloat among the people who live within a few miles of the
place. You have heard that I have sold myself to the devil, and that
the house is haunted by evil spirits?"

I did not reply.

"You are bold fellows to come here," he continued, "for I am reported
to have wonderful powers, being able to call to my aid the might of the
king of darkness. But I do not know your names and so cannot talk
freely with you."

I told him our names.

"I know you both by reputation," he said. "You," turning to Will, "are
a barrister, and bidding fair to donning silk, while you," turning to
me, "are making your name known as a novelist."

"I have read your books," he continued; "and--well"--he stopped and
mused a minute, and then, pointing to the bookshelves, continued--"I
get nearly everything. Science, religion, history, travel, poetry,
romance, I see them all. That's how I know your names and professions.
I send one of my servants to Plymouth every month, and thus I get all I
need."

We soon fell to talking about books, and I found that intellectually
this Squire Trewinion was a man of more than ordinary power. We had
not conversed long however, before I saw a great change come over him.
He seemed possessed by some nervous dread, and was evidently anxious to
drop the subject of books.

Seeing this, I turned the conversation to the old house in which we
stood, and asked him the year of its erection.

"It dates from the time of Charles II," he said, "and is, perhaps, the
best built house in the whole county. And it had need to be so, for
the storms which sometimes beat upon us are terrific."

"Are there any stories or legends about it?" I said, laughingly.

He looked at me as though he would read my heart's inmost secrets, and
then burst out:

"Yes, there are stories, there are legends, th