I had become infected with her nervousness, and at a cracking or
creaking sound turned around with half an expectation of seeing
Doddridge Knapp himself coming in the door.

There was no one there--nothing to be seen but the flickering shadows,
and no sound broke the stillness as we listened.

"It's nothing," I said.

"I reckon I ain't got no call to be scared at any crackings in this old
house," said Mother Borton with a nervous giggle. "I've hearn 'em long
enough. But that man's name gives me the shivers."

"What did he ever do to you?" I asked with some curiosity.

"He never did nothing," she said, "but I hearn tell dreadful things
that's gone on of nights,--how Doddridge Knapp or his ghost was seen
killing a Chinaman over at North Beach, while Doddridge Knapp or his
ghost,--whichever was the other one,--was speaking at a meeting, at the
Pavilion. And I hearn of his drinkin' blood--"

"Nonsense!" said I; "where did you get such stories?"

"Well, they're told me for true, and by ones I believe," she said
stoutly. "Oh, there's queer things goes on. Doddridge Knapp or the
devil, it's all one. But it's ill saying things of them that can be in
two places at once." And the old dame looked nervously about her.
"They've hushed things up in the papers, and fixed the police, but
people have tongues."