"Can you tell me," said the mystic, with sunken head and lowering
brow, as he traced a pattern in the dust with his sword-stick,
"can you tell me what was the name of the man who lived in your
house before you?"

The unhappy Major was only faintly more disturbed by this last and
futile irrelevancy, and he answered vaguely:

"Yes, I think so; a man named Gurney something--a name with a
hyphen--Gurney-Brown; that was it."

"And when did the house change hands?" said Basil, looking up
sharply. His strange eyes were burning brilliantly.

"I came in last month," said the Major.

And at the mere word the criminal Northover suddenly fell into his
great office chair and shouted with a volleying laughter.

"Oh! it's too perfect--it's too exquisite," he gasped, beating the
arms with his fists. He was laughing deafeningly; Basil Grant was
laughing voicelessly; and the rest of us only felt that our heads
were like weathercocks in a whirlwind.

"Confound it, Basil," said Rupert, stamping. "If you don't want me
to go mad and blow your metaphysical brains out, tell me what all
this means."

Northover rose.