This morning it was a man; now it is a woman. Now there are two.
Oh, dear; perhaps we shall hear the bell."

Jerome began to scent a tragedy. Certainly the old lady was
uncanny; the house was bare and hollow; the scant furniture was
threadbare with age and mildew; each sound was exaggerated and
fearful, even their breathing. He placed his hand on the knob and
opened the door.

"Now there are two. Now there are two."

The room was empty. Not a bit of furniture; a blank, bare
apartment with an old-fashioned high ceiling. Nothing else.
Whatever the weirdness and adventure, Jerome was getting nowhere.
The old lady was still clinging to his arm and still droning:

"Now there are two. Now there are two. This morning a man; now a
woman. Now there are two."

"Come, mother, come. This will not do. Perhaps--"

But just then the old lady's lean fingers clinched into his arm;
her eyes grew bright; her mouth opened and she stopped in the
middle of her drone. Jerome grew rigid. And no wonder. From the
middle of the room not ten feet away came the tone of a bell, a
great silvery voluminous sound--and music. A church bell. Just one
stroke, full toned, filling all the air till the whole room was
choked with music. Then as suddenly it died out and faded into
nothing. At the same time he felt the fingers on his arm relax;
and a heap was at his feet. He reached over. The life and