"No," said he, "but I heard Thompson tell a curious story this morning
about some one he had seen."
"What was it?"
"He said he was passing that way last night about twelve o'clock when
he remarked standing under the lamp on the corner of Second Avenue, a
group consisting of two men and a woman, who no sooner beheld him
than they separated, the men drawing back into Second Avenue and the
woman coming hastily towards him. Not understanding the move, he
stood waiting her approach, when instead of advancing to where he
was, she paused at the gate of Mr. Blake's house and lifted her hand
as if to open it, when with a wild and terrified gesture she started
back, covering her face with her hands, and before he knew it, had
actually fled in the direction from which she had come. A little
startled, Thompson advanced and looked through the gate before him to
see if possible what had alarmed her, when to his great surprise, he
beheld the pale face of the master of the house, Mr. Blake himself,
looking through the bars from the other side of the gate. He in his
turn started back and before he could recover himself, Mr. Blake had
disappeared. He says he tried the gate after that, but found it
locked."
"Thompson tells you this story, does he?"
"Yes."
"Well," said I, "it's a pretty wild kind of a tale, and all I have got
to say is, that neither you nor Thompson had better go blabbing it
around too much.
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