"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 forty pound would
rent a place like this without some drawbacks. Well, the drawbacks
is ghosts. Four of 'em, and all females."
"Tell us about 'em, sir," requested Mr. Jope, dropping into his seat.
"An' if Bill don't care to listen, he can fill up his time by takin'
the jug an' steppin' down to the cellar."
"Damned if I do," said Mr. Adams, stealing a glance over his shoulder
at the statues.
"It's a distressin' story," began Mr. Coyne with a very slight
flutter of the eyelids. "Maybe my daughter told you--an' if she
didn't, you may have found out for yourselves--as how this here house
is properly speakin' four houses--nothing in common but the roof, an'
the cellar, an' this room we're sittin' in. . . . Well, then, back
along there lived an old Rector here, with a man-servant called
Oliver. One day he rode up to Exeter, spent a week there, an'
brought home a wife.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200