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to us, Simpson, my lad – what?"

      "Not that I know of," answered Simpson, stolidly.

      The solicitor looked from one to the other and smiled.

      "Well, I've told you what happened," he said. "Those other two men were neither of them any more likely to be impressed by ghosts than you seem to be, but I can tell you that I've seen both of them labouring under such intense fear that they were on the very verge of breaking down. That's all."

      Two pairs of blue eyes fixed themselves on the man of law's face and grew wider and wider; two mouths gradually opened.

      "I'll just tell you about it," said the solicitor, who was plainly not averse to playing the part of narrator, "and then, when you've heard everything, you can decide for yourselves whether you care to go further into the matter or not. Now, until just over four years ago High Elms Farm was tenanted by an old man named Josiah Maidment, who'd been there for quite thirty years. He was a queer, eccentric old chap, who had never married, and who lived almost by himself. He never had a housekeeper, nor a female servant in the house – whatever he needed doing was done for him by the woman at the neighbouring cottage."

      "That's where we got the keys of the house," said Isaac.

      "Just so. Well," continued the solicitor, "a little more than four years ago old Maidment suddenly disappeared. He went out of the house one morning, dressed in his second-best suit, as if he was going to market – and he was never seen again. Never seen – never heard of! Nor could we find any relation of his. He had money in the bank, and he had securities there which proved him a well-to-do man. We advertised and did everything we could, but all to no purpose. We kept things going for a while; then the stock was sold, and very soon we let the farm to a new tenant. That's just three years since. And that was when all the trouble began."

      "With the ghosts?" said Simpson.

      "Well, with something," said the solicitor, smiling. "The new tenant had no sooner got his stock in than he became aware that there was something wrong. The very first night he was there his sheep-dog, an animal which he'd had for years, disappeared. They thought it had gone back to the old home, but it hadn't – it had just disappeared. Then the horses in the stables began to make such noises at night that it was impossible to sleep. If you went to them you found them shivering with fright. Just the same with the cows. As for the sheep, they were always found in the morning huddled together in a corner of whatever field they were in. In short, the whole place was panic-stricken. But by what? Nobody ever saw anything. The farmer and his men watched for nights, without effect. Yet as soon as ever their backs were turned the thing began. And at the end of a month the men went – and were thankful to go."

      The twin-brothers were now thoroughly fascinated. Their eyes invited more.

      "The second man came, after an interval," continued the solicitor. "Just the same things happened to him. His sheep-dog disappeared – his horses, cattle, and sheep were frightened out of their lives. And then came worse. This man was a young married man who had a wife and one child. The child was a bright, lively boy of about five. One afternoon its mother was busy, and had let it go into the orchard to play under the apple-trees. As it was a long time in coming in she went to seek it. She found it – yes, but how do you think she found it? Mad! Utterly mad! that poor child had lost its reason – through fright. And so that tenant went. There, gentlemen, is the story of High Elms Farm. It's queer, but it's true."

      Isaac Greaves drew a long breath, stared hard at his brother, and shook his head.

      "Well, of all the things I ever did hear tell of!" he said. "How might you account for it, now, sir?"

      The solicitor spread out his hands.

      "Account for it!" he exclaimed. "My good sir, ask me to account for all or any of the mysteries which baffle human knowledge! Nobody can account for it. All I know is what happened to these men. I tell you they were frightened – frightened in the worst way."

      "I expect everybody hereabouts knows this story?" asked Isaac.

      "You may be sure they do, or the farm would have been taken long since at this reduced rental," answered the solicitor. "There's nobody hereabouts would take it – not they!"

      Isaac looked at Simpson. They regarded each other for a full moment in silence; then Isaac turned to the solicitor.

      "You're asking ten shillings an acre?" he said.

      "I should be glad to get a tenant at that," answered the man of law wearily.

      "Make it eight, and we'll take it," said Isaac. "And we'll start on to clearing things up at once. Ghosts, sir, don't bother me and Simpson much – we'll take our chance. But – " and there Isaac branched off into technical details about the conditions of tenancy, which showed the solicitor that he had a shrewd man to deal with.

      On Lady Day the twin-brothers brought their live stock to High Elms Farm, and by nightfall everything was in place. The house had already received their furniture, and had been made spick and span by their housekeeper and a strapping maid. There was nothing cold and cheerless about it now.

      "We might have been settled down for a year or two, Isaac," said Simpson as the two brothers sat smoking in the parlour that night. "Everything's in order."

      "Aye, and the next thing's to finish getting the land in order," said Isaac. "We're not going to shift out of here as quickly as those other chaps did, Simpson, my lad – ghosts or no ghosts."

      "I wonder if we shall hear or see anything?" said Simpson, meditatively.

      Isaac glanced at a couple of up-to-date fowling-pieces which hung over the mantel-piece.

      He wagged his head in a self-assured and threatening manner.

      "If I see any ghosts," he said, "I'll let daylight through 'em. It'll be a fine ghost that can stand a charge of Number 4."

      "Aye," said Simpson, "but then, according to what some folk say – "

      He paused, rubbing his chin, and his brother stared at him with the suspicion of a doubt in his mind.

      "Well?" said Isaac, impatiently. "Well?"

      "According to some folk," said Simpson, "there's ghosts as you can't see. You can only feel 'em."

      Isaac mixed himself a drink and lighted a cigar. He plunged his hands deep in the pockets of his riding-breeches, and facing his brother, stared hard at him.

      "I believe you're afraid, Sim!" he said.

      Simpson stared just as hard back.

      "Well, then, I'm not!" he retorted. "I'm afraid of naught – that I can see and get at. All the same we both agreed that this was a queer place."

      "Queer or no queer, here we are, my lad, at a ridiculous rental, and here we stop," said Isaac. "It'll take something that I've never heard of to shift us."

      An hour later, it then being nine o'clock – the brothers took a lanthorn and, after their usual custom, went round the farm-buildings to see that everything was safe for the night. They were well-to-do young men, these two, and they had brought a quantity of valuable live stock with them. The stables, the folds, the byres, the cow-houses were all full; the pig-cotes were strained to their utmost capacity, for both Simpson and Isaac believed in pigs as a means of making money. Not for many a year had the old farmstead contained so much life.

      They went from stable to stall, from fold to byre, from cote to granary – all was in order for the night. The horses turned sleepy heads and looked round at the yellow light of the swinging lanthorn; the cows gazed at their owners with silky eyes; the young bullocks and heifers in the knee-deep straw of the folds stared lazily at the two inspectors. Over this bovine life, over the high roofs and quaint gables the deep blue of the night hung, pierced with the shafts of a thousand stars.

      "All's right," said Isaac, as they finished up at the pigs. "By the bye, where did Trippett fasten up that new dog?"

      "Back-yard, I told him," answered Simpson, laconically.

      "Let's have a look at him," said Isaac.

      He led the way round to a cobble-paved yard at the rear of the house, where in a corner

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