“I think I’d better be honest with you, even if it costs me money,” I said. “The house is cheap because it—well, it isn’t an easy house to rent.”
“Too lonely, eh?”
“Partly that, and partly because—a portion of the house is very old, and there have been some stories about it circulating in the neighborhood for years.”
“Ghost stories?”
“You can call them that.”
He seemed to be amused, rather than alarmed. He grinned broadly and took out a cigarette.
“Ghosts won’t bother me any,” he said rather boastfully. “What kind of a ghost?”
“I don’t believe anyone claims to have seen anything. The reports are mostly of raps and various noises.”
He seemed to take a peculiar, almost a furtive, enjoyment out of my statement, my confession, rather.
“Hot dog!” he said. “Well, raps won’t bother me, a
