"How is it possible," she asked him, "that you could have heard any sound in the next house when there's nobody there?"
A convincing question, my dear, which carries its own convincing answer.
Richard Manx wavers, and promises her not to speak to the neighbours of his distressing impression. He says he will wait "till it comes again." It comes again on this night the events of which I am describing, and in great fear (which may or may not be real) he creeps downstairs to Mrs. Preedy to inform her of it. He says the noise may not be made by a mortal; it may be made by a spirit. So much the worse. A man or a woman one can meet and hold, and ask questions of, but a spirit!----the very idea is enough to make one's hair stand on end.
It did not make my hair stand on end, nor did Richard Manx's suggestion frighten me in the least. It excited me almost to fever heat, but there was no fear in my excitement. Expectation, hope, painful curiosity--these were the feelings which animated me.
What if Richard Manx were, for some reason of his own, inventing this story of strange noises in an empty house, the boards of which are stained with the blood of a murdered man? The idea did not dawn upon me; it flashed upon me in a certain expression which dwelt upon Richard Manx's face while Mrs. Preedy's back, for a moment, was turned to him.
When they were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, the man was timid, confiding, humble; but when Mrs. Preedy turned towards the dresser for the sugar basin, there stole into his face the expression I have referred to. What did it denote? Cunning, ferocity, triumph, duplicity. It was but for a moment; upon Mrs. Preedy confronting him again, he relapsed into humbleness and timidity.
What was the meaning of this sudden change? That the man was playing a part? Clearly. Then behind his systematic acting was hidden a motive. What motive?
He had accepted Mrs. Preedy's invitation to a glass of gin and water, and had asked for sugar. It was while she was getting the sugar that he had allowed the mask to slip from his false face.
"If it gets known," she said, "I'm a ruined woman!"
"Ah," said Richard Manx, "I comprehend what you mean by ruined. A house with a shadow--a spirit ghost in it, would be--a--horrible! Listen you. This house is likewise." Mrs. Preedy shuddered. "Well," he continued, "I will say--a--nothing." He placed his hand on his heart and leered at her. "On my honour. But be you positive--what I have heard is not--a--fancy. It is veritable."