Taleverna

A gray cloud of dust and the whirring of a motor announced the coming of an automobile. The next minute an ancient flivver, with whose bumps of eccentricity I had gained some acquaintance, turned into the driveway and stopped opposite me. Joe Severs, older son of my uncle’s tenant, stepped out and came running toward me. “Glitch’s wife died this morning,” he panted, “and he swears Mr. Braddock is a vampire and sucked her blood.” “What rot!” I replied. “Nobody believes him, of course?” “I ain’t so sure of that,” sai…