"Nothing wrong, Munro," I answered, smiling in spite of myself. "I have not been picking, or stealing, or abducting any young woman, or courting my neighbour's wife; but I am worried and perplexed. When I sleep I have dreadful dreams--horrible dreams," I added, shuddering. "Can you tell me what is worrying and perplexing you?" he asked, kindly, after a moment's thought. "Not yet, Ned," I answered; "though I expect I shall have to tell you soon. Give me something to make me sleep quietly: that is all I want now." "Can't you go out of town?" he inquired. "I do not want to go out of town," I answered. "I will make you up something to strengthen your nerves," he said, after a pause; "but if you are not better--well, before the end of the week, take my advice, and run down to Brighton over Sunday. Now, you ought to give me a guinea for that," he added, laughing. "I assure you, all the gold-headed cane, all the wonderful chronometer doctors who pocket thousands per annum at the West End, could make no more of your case than I have done." "I am sure they could not," I said, gratefully; "and when I have the guinea to spare, be sure I shall not forget your fee." Whether it was owing to his medicine, or his advice, or his cheery, health-giving manner, I have no idea; but that night, when I walked towards the Uninhabited House, I felt a different being. On my way I called at a small corn-chandler's, and bought a quartern of flour done up in a thin and utterly insufficient bag. I told the man the wrapper would not bear its contents, and he said he could not help that. I asked him if he had no stronger bags. He answered that he had, but he could not afford to give them away. I laid down twopence extra, and inquired if that would cover the expense of a sheet of brown paper. Ashamed, he turned aside and produced a substantial bag, into which he put the flour in its envelope of curling-tissue. I thanked him, and pushed the twopence across the counter. With a grunt, he thrust the money back. I said good-night, leaving current coin of the realm to the amount indicated behind me. Through the night be shouted, "Hi! sir, you've forgotten your change." Through the night I shouted back, "Give your next customer its value in civility." All of which did me good. Squabbling with flesh and blood is not a bad preliminary to entering a ghost-haunted house. Once again I was at River Hall. Looking up at its cheerless portal, I was amazed at first to see the outside lamp flaring away in the darkness. Then I remembered that all the other gas being out, of course this, which I had not turned off, would blaze more brightly. Purposely I had left my return till rather late. I had gone to one of the theatres, and remained until a third through the principal piece. Then I called at a supper-room, had half a dozen oysters and some stout; after which, like a giant refreshed, I wended my way westward.