Before leaving, Monica brought them down a big cardboard box, tied with string.
“I’ve collected all the papers,” she whispered. “And they’re in here. I thought you could take it away with you, and then you’ll have plenty of time to go over them—but I’m sure you won’t find anything to throw light on the mysterious happenings in this house—”
Her words were interrupted by a terrific crash overhead. Tommy ran quickly up the stairs. A jug and basin in one of the front rooms was lying on the ground broken to pieces. There was no one in the room.
“The ghost up to its tricks again,” he murmured with a grin.
He went downstairs again thoughtfully.
“I wonder, Miss Deane, if I might speak to the maid, Crockett, for a minute.”
“Certainly. I will ask her to come to you.”
Monica went off to the kitchen. She returned with the elderly maid who had opened the door to them earlier.
“We are thinking of buying this house,” said Tommy pleasantly, “and my wife was wondering whether, in that case, you would care to remain on with us?”
Crockett’s respectable face displayed no emotion of any kind.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I should like to think it over if I may.”
Tommy turned to Monica.