The two men stared at each other, Henry’s eyes still wide, Sam shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Shall we go to the garden?” Sam said.

“Yes.” Henry picked up his case and headed towards the back of the house without another word.

Fortunately, the small garden area was mostly tidy (the weather had been very uncertain, and few of Sam’s materials played well with water). There were even a couple of wooden chairs. Miraculously, as they sat down, Sally May appeared. Sam shot a triumphant glance in Henry’s direction.

“Would you like some refreshment, sir?” she asked, smiling.

“Would I like some—” Sam frowned. “You’ve never asked before.” Usually Sam got along well with his staff, but there had been an accident involving a fire—a very minor one!—and a new dress on his first day there. Of course he’d paid for the dress, but ever since then she had visibly categorized him as a dangerous madman.

“Ah, you will have your joke, sir,” she said, shooting him a quick glare before blinking sweetly in Henry’s direction. Ah. Now matters became clear—women were always fawning over Henry. He supposed it was the soulful brown eyes.

“I almost dread the answer,” Henry began, once she’d hurried back into the house to retrieve some tea, “but how is the ghost research going?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m having trouble getting access.”

“If you’re flirting with the woman, surely you can convince her to let you in her house,” Henry said, frowning. “After all, isn’t access the point of flirtation?”

“Only if you take a somewhat joyless view of the matter,” Sam said, evading the question.

“You don’t mean she’s turned you down? Well, imagine that, the handsome Professor Moore, rejected.”

Sam didn’t really want to talk about it. In the two days since Alva had, indeed, rejected him, he’d found himself thinking too much about her, about the protectiveness that had swamped him when she’d looked so scared, and the way she’d looked when she’d walked away from him. “There was an interesting development with the house a few days ago,” he said. “Some laborers say they saw something, although what exactly they saw remains a little confused.”

“Something supernatural?” Henry leaned back in his chair, looking skeptical.

“Why does everyone think I’ve gone mad? And I don’t think I like that word, ‘supernatural.’ Unstudied, perhaps, but not beyond nature.”

“Unstudied, then. And I’ve never said I thought you were going mad. But ghosts, Sam? You must admit the evidence points towards superstition and old wives’ tales.”

“I don’t know why people think so little of old wives,” Sam protested. “Most of the old wives I’ve met are quite sensible.”

“Not the point.”