“You must pardon me,” said I, “for this infringement upon the usual rules of this office.  I have something very serious to say about Mrs. Packard—­oh, she’s quite well; it has to do with a matter I shall presently explain—­and I wish to make a request.”

“Thank you for the honor,” he said, drawing up a chair for me.

But I did not sit, neither did I speak for a moment.  I was contemplating his features and thinking how faultless they were.

“I hardly know where to begin,” I ventured at last.  “I am burdened with a secret, and it may all appear puerile to you.  I don’t know whether to remind you first of Mayor Packard’s intense desire to see his wife’s former cheerfulness restored—­a task in which I have been engaged to assist—­or to plunge at once into my discoveries, which are a little peculiar and possibly important, in spite of my short acquaintance with the people under this roof and the nature of my position here.”

“You excite me,” were his few quick but sharply accentuated words.  “What secret?  What discoveries?  I didn’t know that the house held any that were worth the attention of sensible persons like ourselves.”

I had not been looking at him directly, but I looked up at this and was astonished to find that his interest in what I had said was greater than appeared from his tone or even from his manner.

“You know the cause of Mrs. Packard’s present uneasiness?” I asked.

“Mayor Packard told me—­the paragraph which appeared in yesterday morning’s paper.  I have tried to find out its author, but I have failed so far.”

“That is a trifle,” I said.  “The real cause—­no, I prefer to stand,” I put in, for he was again urging me by a gesture to seat myself.

“The real cause—­” he repeated.

“—­is one you will smile at, but which you must nevertheless respect.  She thinks—­she has confided to us, in fact—­that she has seen, within these walls, what many others profess to have seen.  You understand me, Mr. Steele?”

“I don’t know that I do, Miss Saunders.”

“I find it hard to speak it; you have heard, of course, the common gossip about this house.”

“That it is haunted?” he smiled, somewhat disdainfully.

“Yes.  Well, Mrs. Packard believes that she has seen what—­what gives this name to the house.”

“A ghost?”

“Yes, a ghost—­in the library one night.”

“Ah!”

The ejaculation was eloquent.  I did not altogether understand it, but its chief expression seemed to be contempt.  I began to fear he would not have sufficient sympathy with such an unreasoning state of mind to give me the attention and assistance I desired.  He saw the effect it had upon me and hastened to say: 

“The impression Mrs. Packard has made upon me was of a common-sense woman.  I’m sorry to hear that she is the victim of an hallucination.  What do you propose to do about it?—­for I see that you have some project in mind.”