"Did you see Mr. Lewis there?" Mrs. Spash asked this as casually as though she had said, "Has the postman been here this morning?" She added, "I see him here." "No, I didn't see him," Lindsay explained grimly, "but I felt him. And, believe me, I knew he was there. He was the only one of the lot that frightened me. I wouldn't have been frightened if I had seen him. It was he, really, who sent me here. I work it out that he couldn't get it over and he sent me to Lutetia because he thought she could. I wonder--" he stopped short. This explanation came as though something had flashed electrically through his mind. But he did not pursue that wonder. "Well, don't you get discouraged," Mrs. Spash reiterated. "You mark my words, she'll manage to say what she's got to say." "Well, it's time I went to work," Lindsay remarked a little listlessly. "After all, the life of Lutetia Murray must get finished. Oh, by the way, Mrs. Spash," Lindsay veered as though remembering suddenly something he had forgotten, "do other people see them?" "No--at least I never heard tell that they did." "How did the rumor get about that the place was haunted, then?" "I spread it," Mrs. Spash explained. "I didn't want folks breaking in to see if there was anything to steal. And I didn't want them poking about the place." "How did you spread it?" "I told children," Mrs. Spash said simply. "Less than a month, folks were seeing all kinds of ridic'lous ghosts here. Nobody likes to go by alone at night." "It's a curious thing," Lindsay reverted to his main theme, "that I know her message has nothing to do with this biography. I don't know how I know it; but I do. Of course, that would be the first thing a man would think of. It is something more instant, more acute. It beats me altogether. All I can do is wait." "Now don't you think any more about it, Mr. Lindsay," Mrs. Spash advised. "You go upstairs and set to work. I'm going to get you up the best lunch today you've had yet." "That's the dope," Lindsay agreed. "The only way to take a man's mind off his troubles is to give him a good dinner. You'll have to work hard, though, Eunice Spash, to beat your own record." Lindsay arose and sauntered into the front hall and up the stairs. He turned into the room at the right which he had reserved for work, now that Mrs. Spash was on the premises. At this moment, it was flooded with sunlight.... A faint odor of the honeysuckle vine at the corner seemed to emanate from the light itself.... Instantly ... he realized ... that the room was not empty.