"You interest me more and more," declared Smith, stretching himself in the long, white cane rest-chair. "Two men, both fairly sound, except that the first one had an asthmatic heart, have died at The Gables without any one laying a little finger upon them. Oh! there was no jugglery! They weren't poisoned, or bitten by venomous insects, or suffocated, or anything like that. They just died of fear--stark fear." With my elbows resting upon the table cover, and my chin in my hands, I was listening attentively, now, and Nayland Smith, a big cushion behind his head, was watching the speaker with a keen and speculative look in those steely eyes of his. "You imply that Dr. Fu-Manchu has something to learn from The Gables?" he jerked. Weymouth nodded stolidly. "I can't work up anything like amazement in these days," continued the latter; "every other case seems stale and hackneyed alongside _the_ case. But I must confess that when The Gables came on the books of the Yard the second time, I began to wonder. I thought there might be some tangible clue, some link connecting the two victims; perhaps some evidence of robbery or of revenge--of some sort of motive. In short, I hoped to find evidence of human agency at work, but, as before, I was disappointed." "It's a legitimate case of a haunted house, then?" said Smith. "Yes; we find them occasionally, these uninhabitable places, where there is _something_, something malignant and harmful to human life, but something that you cannot arrest, that you cannot hope to bring into court." "Ah," replied Smith slowly; "I suppose you are right. There are historic instances, of course: Glamys Castle and Spedlins Tower in Scotland, Peel Castle, Isle of Man, with its _Maudhe Dhug_, the grey lady of Rainham Hall, the headless horses of Caistor, the Wesley ghost of Epworth Rectory and others. But I have never come in personal contact with such a case, and if I did I should feel very humiliated to have to confess that there was _any_ agency which could produce a _physical_ result--death,--but which was immune from physical retaliation." Weymouth nodded his head again. "_I_ might feel a bit sour about it, too," he replied, "if it were not that I haven't much pride left in these days, considering the show of physical retaliation I have made against Dr. Fu-Manchu." "A home-thrust, Weymouth!" snapped Nayland Smith, with one of those rare boyish laughs of his. "We're children to that Chinese doctor, Inspector, to that weird product of a weird people who are as old in evil as the Pyramids are old in mystery. But about The Gables?"