Its
windows were dusty, and without blinds or curtains, there were no
flower-boxes on the ledges, the steps lacked whitewash, and the iron
railings looked rusty for want of paint. Stray straws and scraps of
paper found their way down the area, where the cracked pavement was damp
with green slime. Such beggars as occasionally wandered into the square,
to the scandal of its inhabitants, camped on the doorstep; and the very
door itself presented a battered, dissolute appearance.

Yet, for all its ill looks and disreputable suggestions, those who dwelt
in Geneva Square would not have seen it furbished up and occupied for
any money. They spoke about it in whispers, with ostentatious
tremblings, and daunted looks, for No. 13 was supposed to be haunted,
and had been empty for over twenty years. By reason of its legend, its
loneliness and grim appearance, it was known as the Silent House, and
formed quite a feature of the place. Murder had been done long ago in
one of its empty, dusty rooms, and it was since then that the victim
walked. Lights, said the ghost-seers, had been seen flitting from window
to window, groans were sometimes heard, and the apparition of a little
old woman in brocaded silk and high-heeled shoes appeared on occasions.
Hence the Silent House bore an uncanny reputation.

How much truth there was in these stories it is impossible to say; but
sure enough, in spite of a low rental, no tenant would take No. 13 and
face its ghostly terrors. House and apparition and legend had become
quite a tradition, when the whole fantasy was ended in the summer of '95
by the unexpected occupation of the mansion. Mr. Mark Berwin, a
gentleman of mature age, who came from nobody knew where, rented No. 13,
and established himself therein to lead a strange and lonely life.

At first, the gossips, strong in ghostly tradition, declared that the
new tenant would not remain a week in the house; but as the week
extended into six months, and Mr. Berwin showed no signs of leaving,
they left off speaking of the ghost and took to discussing the man
himself. In a short space of time quite a collection of stories were
told about the newcomer and his strange ways.

Lucian heard many of these tales from his landlady. How Mr. Berwin lived
all alone in the Silent House without servant or companion; how he spoke
to none, and admitted no one into the mansion; how he appeared to have
plenty of money, and was frequently seen coming home more or