." Mr. Jope fumbled with the fastening of a pouch
underneath his broad waistbelt. "So we're well met. How much?"

"Eh?"

"How much? Accordin' to your darter 'twas forty pound a year, an'
money down: but whether monthly or quarterly she didn' say."

"It's no question of money. It's a question of you two clearin' out,
and at once. I'm breakin' what I have to say as gently as I can.
If you don't choose to understand plain language, I must go an' fetch
the constable."

"I seen him, up at the village this afternoon, an' you'd better not.
Bill, why can't ye fill the gentleman's glass?"

"Because the jug's empty," answered Mr. Adams.

"Then slip down to the cellar again."

"No!" Mr. Coyne almost screamed it, rising from his chair. Dropping
back weakly, he murmured, panting, "Not for me: not on any account!"
His face was pale, and for the moment all the aggressiveness had gone
out of him. He lifted a hand weakly to his heart.

"A sudden faintness," he groaned, closing his eyes. "If you two men
had any feelin's, you'd offer to see me home."

"The pair of us?" asked Mr. Jope suavely.

"I scale over seventeen stone," murmured Mr. Coyne, still with his
eyes closed; "an' a weight like that is no joke."

Mr. Jope nodded.

"You're right there; so you'd best give it over. Sorry to seem
heartless, sir, but 'tis for your good: an' to walk home in your
state would be a sin, when we can fix you up a bed in the house."

Mr. Coyne opened his eyes, and they were twinkling vindictively.

"Sleep in this house?" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do it, not for a
thousand pound!"

"W'y not?"

"You'll find out 'why not,' safe enough, afore the mornin'!
Why 'twas in kindness--pure kindness--I asked the pair of ye to see
me home. I wouldn't be one to stay in this house alone arter
nightfall--no, or I wouldn't be one to leave a dog alone here, let be
a friend. My daughter didn't tell, I reckon, as this place was
ha'nted?"

"Ha'nted?"

"Aye. By females too."

"O--oh!" Mr. Adams, who had caught his breath, let it escape in a
long sigh of relief. "Like Symonds's," he murmured.

"Not a bit like Symonds's," his friend corrected snappishly.
"He's talkin' o' dead uns--ghosts--that is, if I take your meanin',
sir?"

Mr. Coyne nodded.

"That's it. Ghosts."

"Get out with you!" said Mr. Adams, incredulous.

"You must be a pair of very simple men," said landlord Coyne,
half-closing his eyes again, "if you reckoned that