“‘I know nothing about Carey, or who he is,’ continued the man quietly, ’and the name my body had I have forgotten, thank God; but I am the man who was frightened to death in this house ten years ago, and I have been frightened ever since, and am frightened still; for the succession of cruel and curious people who come to this house to see the ghost, and thus keep alive its atmosphere of terror, only helps to render my condition worse.  If only some one would be kind to me—­laugh, speak gently and rationally with me, cry if they like, pity, comfort, soothe me—­anything but come here in curiosity and tremble as you are now doing in that corner.  Now, madam, won’t you take pity on me?’ His voice rose to a dreadful cry.  ’Won’t you step out into the middle of the room and try to love me a little?’

“A horrible laughter came gurgling up in my throat as I heard him, but the sense of pity was stronger than the laughter, and I found myself actually leaving the support of the wall and approaching the center of the floor.

“‘By God!’ he cried, at once straightening up against the window, ’you have done a kind act.  That’s the first attempt at sympathy that has been shown me since I died, and I feel better already.  In life, you know, I was a misanthrope.  Everything went wrong with me, and I came to hate my fellow men so much that I couldn’t bear to see them even.  Of course, like begets like, and this hate was returned.  Finally I suffered from horrible delusions, and my room became haunted with demons that laughed and grimaced, and one night I ran into a whole cluster of them near the bed—­and the fright stopped my heart and killed me.  It’s hate and remorse, as much as terror, that clogs me so thickly and keeps me here.  If only some one could feel pity, and sympathy, and perhaps a little love for me, I could get away and be happy.  When you came this afternoon to see over the house I watched you, and a little hope came to me for the first time.  I saw you had courage, originality, resource—­love.  If only I could touch your heart, without frightening you, I knew I could perhaps tap that love you have stored up in your being there, and thus borrow the wings for my escape!’

“Now I must confess my heart began to ache a little, as fear left me and the man’s words sank their sad meaning into me.  Still, the whole affair was so incredible, and so touched with unholy quality, and the story of a woman’s murder I had come to investigate had so obviously nothing to do with this thing, that I felt myself in a kind of wild dream that seemed likely to stop at any moment and leave me somewhere in bed after a nightmare.

“Moreover, his words possessed me to such an extent that I found it impossible to reflect upon anything else at all, or to consider adequately any ways or means of action or escape.

“I moved a little nearer to him in the gloom, horribly frightened, of course, but with the beginnings of a strange determination in my heart.