His aunt was so very
much in earnest.
"The house is very old indeed," she went on, "and the story--an
unpleasant one--dates a long way back. It has to do with a murder
committed by a jealous stableman who had some affair with a servant in
the house. One night he managed to secrete himself in the cellar, and
when everyone was asleep, he crept upstairs to the servants' quarters,
chased the girl down to the next landing, and before anyone could come
to the rescue threw her bodily over the banisters into the hall below."
"And the stableman--?"
"Was caught, I believe, and hanged for murder; but it all happened a
century ago, and I've not been able to get more details of the story."
Shorthouse now felt his interest thoroughly aroused; but, though he was
not particularly nervous for himself, he hesitated a little on his
aunt's account.
"On one condition," he said at length.
"Nothing will prevent my going," she said firmly; "but I may as well
hear your condition."
"That you guarantee your power of self-control if anything really
horrible happens. I mean--that you are sure you won't get too
frightened.
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