"I found Doctor Matthai in his library, immersed in study as usual; quite out of the world so far as every-day happenings were concerned. He greeted me rather coldly. "'I beg your pardon,' said I, 'but I have come to see you about the house.' "'My sister, Regina----' he interrupted. "'Yes, I know,' said I, 'but this visit is to _you_, though I fear you will look upon what I have to say as very nonsensical and farfetched. To me, though, it is a very serious matter.' "I dwelt at length upon the grievance; putting it as strongly as possible. The doctor listened attentively, and when I concluded, laughed and said, 'I believe you fully as to the creaking of the stairs, but you attach entirely too much importance to it. The noise results, I have no doubt, from perfectly natural causes. You must remember, sir, that the stairways are very old indeed, any jar from the movement of persons in other parts of the house, the action of the wind against the walls, or the rotting or shrinking of wood from age will produce just such sounds as you have heard. I quite fail, therefore, to see any mystery about it.' "'However,' he continued, 'I will send a carpenter around who will probably set things to rights; that is, if the expense be not too great. I am not prepared to put a large sum of money on the house; and stairways, you know, are costly arrangements at best.' I fully agreed with him. "'By the way,' said he, blinking at me through his thick glasses, 'there is just a bit of nervousness in your make-up, isn't there? "A little off your feed," as Regina says; liver out of shape--something of that sort, eh?' I confessed that that was just it. I frankly told him that I was not only a nervous man, but a miserably sick and frightened one to boot. He did not offer to prescribe for me, and after some moments of silence I judged that he considered our interview at an end. I arose to go, but on leaving the room fired a parting shot, which, to my surprise, proved a telling one. "'Doctor,' said I, 'before you send the man to make repairs I would like you to hear the creaking of the stairs for yourself--just as a matter of curiosity. My wife and sister-in-law are going up to the old home in a few days. Suppose you come over and spend a night with me while they are away.' "The doctor chuckled, 'You are a queer fellow, Mr. Ploat; a queer fellow, and no mistake. You say you are run down, played out, can't sleep. Take more exercise, sir; give up late suppers, drink less, stop smoking. A man leading the sedentary life you do should take more care of himself. I am older than you are, and a physician. My advice may be worth something. As to coming over and staying with you, I don't see that there is anything in that. It seems absurd, quite so; but nevertheless, I will humor you. Let me know when to come, but on no account say anything of this to my sister. My absence would greatly alarm her. I have not been out of this house after dark for over forty years!'