In support of this
fantastic opinion she related to Lucian at least a score of stories in
which people foolishly sleeping in haunted rooms had been found dead in
the morning.

"With black finger-marks on their throats," said Miss Greeb
dramatically, "and looks of horror in their eyes, and everything locked
up, just like it was in No. 13, to show that nothing but a ghost could
have killed them."

"You forget, Miss Greeb," said Lucian flippantly, "poor Vrain was
stabbed with a stiletto. Ghosts don't use material weapons."

"How do you know the dagger was a real one?" replied Miss Greeb, sinking
her voice to a horrified whisper. "Was it ever seen? No! Was it ever
found? No! The ghost took it away. Depend upon it, Mr. Denzil, it wasn't
flesh and blood as made a spirit of that crazy Berwin."

"In that case, the ghostly criminal can't be hanged," said Denzil, with
a laugh. "But it's all nonsense, Miss Greeb. I am astonished that a
woman of your sense should believe in such rubbish."

"Wiser people than I have faith in ghosts," retorted the landlady
obstinately. "Haven't you heard of the haunted house in a West End
square, where a man and a dog were found dead in the morning, with a
valet as gibbered awful ever afterwards?"

"Pooh! Pooh! That's a story of Bulwer Lytton's."

"It is not, Mr. Denzil--it's a fact. You can see the very house in the
square for yourself, and No. 13 is just such another."

"Nonsense! Why, I'd sleep in No. 13 to-morrow night, just to prove that
your ghostly fears are all moonshine."

Miss Greeb uttered a screech of alarm. "Mr. Denzil!" she cried, with
great energy, "sooner than you should do that, I'd--I'd--well, I don't
know what I'd do!"

"Accuse me of stealing your silver spoons and have me locked up," said
Lucian, laughing. "Make yourself easy, Miss Greeb. I have no intention
of tempting Providence. All the same, I don't believe for one minute
that No. 13 is haunted."

"Lights were seen flitting from room to room."

"No doubt. Poor Vrain showed me over the house before he died. His
candle explains the lights."

"They have been seen since his death," said Miss Greeb solemnly.

"Then, as a ghost, Vrain must be walking about with the old woman
phantom who wears brocade and high-heeled shoes."

Miss Greeb, seeing that she had a sceptic to deal with, retreated with
great dignity from the argument, but nevertheless to other people
maintained her opinion, with many facts drawn from her