“I believe it to arise from the ancient barrow,[44] or tumulus, above which you have had your new wing erected.” [44] Major Dale fell back in his chair, temporarily speechless, but breathing noisily; then: “Tumulus!” he said hoarsely; “d’you mean to tell me the house is built on a dam’ burial ground?” “Not the whole house,” I corrected him; “only the new wing.” “Then is the place haunted by the spirit of some uneasy Ancient Briton or something of that sort, Addison? Hang it all! you can’t tell me a fairy tale like that! A ghost going back to pre-Roman days is a bit too ancient for me, my boy—too hoary, by the Lord Harry!” “I have said nothing about an Ancient British ghost—you’re flying off at a tangent!” “Hang it all, Addison! I don’t know what you’re talking about at all, but nevertheless your hints are sufficiently unpleasant. A tumulus! No man likes to know he’s sleeping in a graveyard, not even if it is two or three thousand years old. D’you think the chap who surveyed the ground for me knew of it?” “By the fact that he planned the new wing so as to avoid excavation, I think probably he[45] did. He was wise enough to surmise that the order might be cancelled altogether and the job lost if you learnt the history of the mound adjoining your walls.” [45] “A barrow under the study floor!” groaned the Major—“damn it all! I’ll have the place pulled down—I won’t live in it. Gad! if Marjorie knew, she would never close her eyes under the roof of Low Fennel again—I’m sure she wouldn’t, I know she wouldn’t. But what’s more, Addison, the thing, whatever it is, is dangerous—infernally dangerous. It nearly killed young Wales!” he added, with a complacency which was significant. “It was the fright that nearly killed him,” I said shortly. Major Dale stared across the table at me. “For God’s sake, Addison,” he said, “what does it mean? What unholy thing haunts Low Fennel? You’ve studied these beastly subjects, and I rely upon you to make the place clean and good to live in again.” “Major,” I replied, “I
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