“Oh! we have our methods,” said Tuppence. “You mustn’t mind me rattling on. Mr. Blunt likes to hear me talk. He always says it gives him ideas.”
The girl stared at her. She was a slender creature, not beautiful, but possessing a wistful prettiness. She had a quantity of soft mouse-colored hair, and her eyes were dark blue and very lovely, though the dark shadows round them spoke of trouble and anxiety.
“Will you tell me your story, Miss Deane?” said Tommy.
The girl turned to him gratefully.
“It’s such a long, rambling story,” said the girl. “My name is Monica Deane. My father was the rector of Little Hampsley in Suffolk. He died three years ago, and my mother and I were left very badly off. I went out as a governess, but my mother became a confirmed invalid and I had to come home to look after her. We were desperately poor, but one day we received a lawyer’s letter telling us that an aunt of my father’s had died and had left everything to me. I had often heard of this aunt who had quarreled with my father many years ago, and I knew that she was very well off, so it really seemed that our troubles were at an end. But matters did not turn out quite as well as we had hoped. I inherited the house she had lived in, but after paying one or two small legacies, there was no money left. I suppose she must have lost it during the war, or perhaps she had been living on her capital. Still, we had the house, and almost at once we had a chance of selling it at quite an advantageous price. But, foolishly perhaps, I refused the offer. We were in tiny, but expensive lodgings, and I thought it would be much nicer to live in the Red House where my mother could have comfortable rooms and take in paying guests to cover our expenses.
“I adhered to this plan, notwithstanding a further tempting offer from the gentlemen who wanted to buy. We moved in, and I advertised for paying guests. For a time, all went well, we had several answers to our advertisement, my aunt’s old servant remained on with us and she and I between us did the work of the house. And then these unaccountable things began to happen.”
“What things?”
“The queerest things. The whole place seemed bewitched. Pictures fell down, crockery flew across the room and broke, one morning we came down to find all the furniture moved round. At first we thought someone was playing a practical joke, but we had to give up that explanation. Sometimes when we were all sitting down to dinner, a terrific crash would be heard overhead. We would go up and find no one there, but a piece of furniture thrown violently to the ground.”
“A poltergeist,” cried Tuppence, much interested.
“Yes, that’s what Dr. O’Neill said-though I don’t know what it means.”
“It’s a sort of evil spirit that plays tricks,” explained Tuppence who in reality knew very little of the subject, and was not even sure that she had got the word poltergeist right.
“Well, at any rate, the effect was disastrous. Our visitors were frightened to death, and left as soon as possible. We got new ones, and they too left hurriedly. I was in despair, and, to crown all, our own tiny income ceased suddenly-the Company in which it was invested failed.”
“You poor dear,” said Tuppence sympathetically. “What a time you have had. Did you want Mr. Blunt to investigate this ‘haunting’ business?”
“Not exactly. You see, three days ago, a gentleman called upon us. His name was Dr. O’Neill. He told us that he was a member of the Society for Physical Research, and that he had heard about the curious manifestations that had taken place in our house and was much interested. So much so, that he was prepared to buy it from us, and conduct a series of experiments there.”
“Well?”
“Of course, at first, I was overcome with joy. It seemed the way out of all our difficulties. But-”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps you will think me fanciful. Perhaps I am. But-oh! I’m sure I haven’t made a mistake. It was the same man!”