A Short Ghost-Story
The Tenant at
Number Seven
By August W. Derleth
Mr. John Paddon got onto the car at Charing Cross station and settled himself for a long ride into the northern part of the city. Mr. Paddon was an antiquary, and he had only just now closed his shop, having had to keep open much longer than usual to satisfy the whim of a late customer, who had, after all, bought scantily. A small, mean-looking man, Mr. Paddon reflected, who had begged him to sell him the grotesque medallion at a lower price than the tag called for. Mr. Paddon's thoughts revolved about the man, and from him moved very naturally to the Roman medallion, found, it was said, at York. Mr. Paddon had his doubts, for he was inclined to regard all antiques with a dubious eye; but, after all, it was not really his business whether they were antiques or not.
It was not often that Mr. Paddon took a late underground. When he thought of how late he would get home he made a grimace of annoyance. At the same moment he looked up and came face to face with his late customer. Mr. Paddon wondered whether he should nod; the customer, however, made no sign of recognition. The man was decidedly mean-looking, Mr. Paddon observed imeasily. Almost unconsciously he began to wish that he had sold him the medallion, even at the risk of a Blight loss. He resolved to keep a careful eye on the man.
However, it was soon evident that the customer either did not remember Mr. Paddon, or did not wish to do so. Mr. Paddon's apprehension left him, and he began to scrutinize the man. He smiled discreetly at the beaver hat and the old-fashioned square spectacles, and followed the heavy black muffler from the man's throat to where it stuck out below his shabby jacket. The face above the muffler looked very old, but the thin lips were Arm, and the tuft of grizzled hair on the chin was not totally white. The small eyes behind the spectacles were black. The nose was sharply aquiline, and Mr. Paddon found himself wondering how the man would look if it were slightly curved.
Quite suddenly the man looked up and stared fully at Mr. Paddon. The antiquary immediately buried his head in the Times. In a moment he looked cautiously over the top of the paper and found his late customer still regarding him thoughtfully. Mr. Paddon bent again to his paper; nor did he look up again until the motorman called out his station.
Mr. Paddon discovered that his late customer was also leaving the underground at St. John's Wood Road. At once his apprehension seized Mr. Paddon again. He decided hurriedly that if the man should come back to the shop on the following day he should have the medallion at his price. But when
