Charley Weyman was anxious to learn how his boy friend had been received and entertained in the Van Kuren mansion, and he listened attentively while Bruce described his visit, told him how friendly Laura and Harry had been, and with what courtesy he had been welcomed by their father and their aunt, but somehow he neglected to mention his long conversation with Laura in the summer-house, nor did he refer to the Dexter mansion at all. The young girl’s words still rang in his ears, and it was a pleasant thought to him that he had a secret to share with her, a secret which none of his other friends need know about. The little scrawl which she had placed in his hand at parting he kept in the innermost compartment of his pocket-book, and many a time during the day while engaged at his work he would take the little crumpled bit of paper out or its hiding place, read it carefully through and then return it, carefully folded up.

And as he did so, he would wonder for the thousandth time what her splendid idea could 97be, and how it could help him to solve the mystery of what she called the “haunted house.” It was just a week after his visit to the Van Kuren’s that he entered the quarters and found a letter addressed to him lying on the table in the back room. He recognized the handwriting at once, and was conscious of a faint color that crept into his cheeks as he seized the precious missive and went upstairs to read it. This is what he found when he tore off the envelope. It was carefully written in pencil on a sheet of paper, which looked as if it had been torn out of a school copy book.
“Bruce Decker, Esq.

“Dear Friend: I have found out where my old nurse lives, and perhaps if you go to see her she will tell you what you want to know. Don’t tell her that you know me, or that you were ever at our house, but ask her about Mr. Dexter and why he lives there all by himself. I think there is an awful mystery about it all, and perhaps some day you will be the hero of a story that will tell about it.

“When are you coming up to see us again? Good-bye now, for the present.
Your true friend,
Laura Van Kuren.

P. S.—I heard papa say that you seemed to be a very nice boy.

P. S.—I forgot to tell you about Ann’s address. She lives at 000 Ave. A, and her name is Mrs. Ann Crehan.”

98Bruce was not long in making his way to the address given in Laura’s letter. Mrs. Crehan seemed to be nearly a hundred years old, and was certainly very deaf. He succeeded after a while in making her understand what he wanted.

“Aye, aye, sir,” she said, “Shure they were good people, too, for all the master had his quarrel with them, but there’s none left now except the ould gentleman, for his son went away and never came back.”

“But what was the quarrel about?” bawled the boy at the top of his lungs.

“What was the quarrel about?” repeated the old woman. “Why it was about family matters, of course. What else do people quarrel about?”

“But can’t you remember what sort of family matters they were?” persisted Bruce.

“No, sir, I cannot,” rejoined the old woman, with a look of fox-like cunning on her face; “and if I could I’d not be talking about it either. What right have I, who was a servant in the family of Mr. Van Kuren, and of his wife that’s dead and gone—may the Lord have mercy on her soul—this ten year come next January, what right have I to be gossiping with the likes of you about their private matters? No, young man, ye’ll get nothing out of Ann Crehan about the Van Kurens, or the Dexters, or any other of the rale quality that we had in thim days when I went out to service.”

She seemed to be nearly a hundred years old, and she was certainly very deaf.—Page 98.

99For half an hour Bruce vainly endeavored to elicit from the old woman some facts regarding the history of the Dexter family. Sometimes she seemed on the point of telling something, and then the old look of cunning would come back to her wrinkled face, and she would shake her head and chuckle, declaring that she knew her place and nothing could induce her to gossip about her old master or his family affairs.

He even went so far as to ask her if she remembered a tall, dark bearded man with a scar across his chin, who used to visit the family, occasionally, but at this inquiry the old woman became very angry and declared that he was an impertinent young spalpeen to come into a decent body’s house and attempt to pry into matters that did not concern him. She said, moreover, that she was going to tell Mr. Dexter himself, the next time he came to see her—“and he might be here any minute,” she added—and the boy on hearing this threat, departed with much speed, and slunk cautiously along the street, looking on every side for Mr. Samuel Dexter.

100Charley Weyman told Bruce that he had read in a “Complete Handbook of Etiquette” that it was ordained by the leaders of fashion that any one entertained at a dinner party should make what is known as a “dinner call” within a week or ten days after the dinner. Therefore he advised the young boy to present himself at the Van Kuren mansion some afternoon, in acknowledgment of the courtesy which had been shown him.

Bruce, who had been trying for three days to contrive some plausible pretext for going up to that part of the town again, was only too glad to hear this, and that very afternoon, having first secured Mr. Trask’s permission, he made himself as neat as he possibly could, and started on the elevated train.

Never before had a journey by steam seemed to him as long as this one. He counted the blocks as they passed beneath him, and rejoiced to think that every minute lessened the distance between him and the young girl who was now occupying a large share of his thoughts. As he approached the Van Kuren mansion, he strained his eyes to look over the hedge that separated the lawn from the highway, hoping that he might catch a glimpse of Laura somewhere in the grounds.

101He was not disappointed. Just as he passed through the gate, he caught sight of some one seated in the summer-house—the very one in which he had had his long talk on the occasion of his first visit—and then it seemed to him that this some one looked up for a moment, recognized him, and then became absorbed in the pages of a book. It was Laura; but although his feet sounded noisily on the gravel-walk she did not look up, and when at last he stopped, a little embarrassed, at the step of the summer-house, lifted his hat, and addressed her by name, she started as suddenly as if she had been awakened from a dream, and then, so it seemed to him, recognized him with much surprise.

She asked him to sit down, which he did, placing himself at the very edge of a rustic bench and holding his hat awkwardly over ............