"'Well, my love,' said she, 'of course we must give up everything here, and that will be a little trying for a while, I'll admit, but we should be thankful that you are not thrown out altogether,' adding with a tinge of melancholy, 'I don't think, though, that I could bear to live in Washington after the change. Suppose we try A---- for a while.' "A---- is over in Maryland, about six miles from town, and very convenient trains are run between the two places. One can live quite comfortably there for very little, so my wife's suggestion was quickly adopted. "'It reminds me of dear, dear Salem,' she said some weeks later, 'and rents are so cheap. Think of the ridiculously small price we pay for this house.' "'Suspiciously small, you mean,' said I gloomily, not at all reconciled to my wife's choice of abode. But as my feeble protest was treated with silence I held my peace. 'Anything for a quiet life' has ever been a favorite conceit with me. "Mrs. Ploat had taken an old-fashioned house in Queen Anne Street, large enough for a family of twenty persons. Now, as my household consisted of only my wife, her unmarried sister, and myself, I could not understand what was wanted with such capacious quarters. But I had no say in the matter. My wife fancied the house, it seemed to me, on account of its colonial air, wide halls, huge high-ceilinged rooms, and general lack of modern improvements. "I never liked the house in Queen Anne Street, though this aversion was apparently unreasonable, for we were cosy enough after the throes of moving in and settling down were over. But it struck me from the start that there was something decidedly uncanny about the place, and a vague feeling of uneasiness became very keenly defined in me whenever I heard the creaking of the stairs. "The stairs throughout the house had an infernal habit of creaking--one after another--as if somebody was coming up or down. At first I thought it was the rats that infested the old mansion in legions; but I abandoned this idea after a few experiments which proved conclusively that the creaking sounds could only be made by a person or thing quite as heavy, if not heavier, than myself--then tipping the beam at one hundred and eighty pounds. "In the course of time I became personally acquainted with each stair in the Queen Anne Street house, and especially with those in the main flight. Business, or pleasure, often compelled me to keep late hours, and on such occasions, on arriving home, I would naturally try to reach my room as quietly as possible. With my shoes in my hand, and by a series of agile leaps from one less noisy stair to another, I usually succeeded in attaining the upper part of the house without much disturbance.