"So'm I!" nodded Mr. Marchdale.

"Eh--bed?" cried the Marquis reproachfully. "Bed--and not gone twelve yet--shameful, O dem!"

"'Tis the country air," explained Marchdale, "in London I'm at my best and brightest at three o'clock in the morning as you very well know, Alton, but here I'm different, 'tis the curst country air, I think."

"And the churn!" said the Marquis, "Betty kept you at it, you and Ben, not to mention the rhubarb wine, I escaped that--eh, Ben?"

"You were nearer the window!" sighed Sir Benjamin, rising.

"What, are you for bed too? Nay, stop at least for a nightcap or so--let's have up another half-dozen o' burgundy!"

"Nay, bed for me," yawned his lordship of Alvaston, "we may be set a-digging or a-ploughing or some such, to-morrow--one never can tell----"

"Ha!" exclaimed the Captain, "would lose a hundred--joyfully, to see Alvaston perform on the hoe, begad!"

So amid much laughter and banter the company arose and in twos and threes sauntered up to their various rooms, all save Mr. Dalroyd who, left alone, sat awhile playing idly with the cards that littered the table. At last he slipped a white hand into the bosom of his coat and taking thence a sc.r.a.p of soiled and crumpled paper, smoothed it out and perused it thoughtfully, and, as he read, his lips curved and his nostrils quivered; then, re-folding this strange missive he put it away and, ringing the bell, demanded his valet.

In due time came a discreet knock and thereafter a discreet person entered, tall, quick-eyed, low-voiced, soft-stepping, he was a very model of a fashionable gentleman's gentleman though his eyes were perhaps a little too close together and their glance a trifle furtive.

"Joseph," said Mr. Dalroyd, surveying his 'gentleman' with a languid interest yet with eyes that seemed to observe his entire person at one and the same time. "Joseph, this afternoon I gave you leave to ramble abroad, well knowing your pa.s.sion for country roads and cross-roads."

Joseph bowed supple back and smiled deferentially, though his eyes appeared somehow to come a little closer together. "Consequently, Joseph, you rambled, I take it?"

"I did, sir!"

"And in your rambles you may have chanced by the old mill, Joseph?"

"Indeed, sir, a charming ruin, very picturesque, the haunt of bats and owls, sir."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Nothing? Are you sure, Animal?"

"Positively, sir!"

"Were there no signs, Thing?"

"None, sir."

"Did you use your eyes well, Object?"

"Everywhere, sir."

"Have you heard any talk in the village of this ghost lately?"

"Frequently, sir. Three people swear they've seen it."

"How do they describe it?"

"They all agree to horns, sir, and a shapeless head."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Joseph?"

"That depends, sir."

"On what, fool?"

"On who sees them sir."

"You were almost famous for the possession of what is called 'nerves of iron' in your predatory days, if I remember rightly, Joseph?"

The obsequious Joseph started slightly and his bow was servile.

"Consequently you don't fear ghosts?"

"No, sir."

"Neither do I, Joseph, and 'tis nigh upon the witching hour, bring me my hat and cane." And Mr. Dalroyd rose languidly.

"Sir," said Joseph as he handed his master the articles in question, "might I suggest one of your travelling-pistols----"

"No, Joseph, no, 'twould drag my pocket out o' shape, and ghosts are impervious to pistols or shall we say 'barkers' 'tis the more professional term for 'em, I believe?"

Once again the obsequious Joseph started slightly, observing which, Mr.

Dalroyd flashed white teeth in languid amus.e.m.e.nt. "I may be gone an hour or more, Joseph, remain awake to undress me."

"Very good, sir! And if I might suggest, sir, 'tis said the ghost walks the churchyard o' nights latterly."

"That sounds sufficiently ghostly!" nodded Mr. Dalroyd. "And by the way, let your tongue remain discreetly inactive--for your own sake, Joseph!"

"Very good, sir--certainly!--and may you burn in everlasting fire!"

added the obsequious Joseph under his breath as he watched his master's languid figure out of sight--his eyes seeming closer together than ever.

CHAPTER XVI

HOW MR. DALROYD SAW A GHOST AND THE SERGEANT AN APPARITION

Mr. Dalroyd stepped out into a summer night radiant with moonbeams and full of the heady perfume of ripening hay. Far as eye could see the wide road stretched away very silent and deserted, not a light gleamed anywhere, the village had been deep-plunged in slumber hours ago.

Mr. Dalroyd sauntered on, past silent cottages, across a trim green and so to the churchyard gate, beyond which the tombstones rose, phantom-like beneath the moon. For a while he stood to contemplate this quiet scene, then started and glanced up at the church tower as a deep-toned bell began to chime the hour of midnight. One by one he counted the deliberate strokes, waited until the last had boomed and died away, then, opening the gate, stepped into the churchyard and strolled on among the graves, his cane airily a-swing, following the paved walk that led round the church. Thus he presently pa.s.sed from light into shadow, a gloom all the deeper by contrast with the moon's bright splendour, a gloom in which carved headstone and sarcophagus took on strange and unexpected shapes. Suddenly Mr. Dalroyd's cane faltered in its airy swing, stopped, and he stood motionless, his body rigid, his breath in check, his eyes wide and staring. Before him loomed a great mausoleum, its pallid outline vague in the half-light, but on this side the weatherworn marble was cracked and split and from this yawning fissure a ghastly radiance streamed; then this unholy light vanished and upon the stillness came a ghostly rustling, a soft thud and the sound of heavy breathing. Mr. Dalroyd shrank cowering into the deeper shadow of a b.u.t.tress and dropping his cane upon the gra.s.s groped for the hilt of his small-sword. Then, as he stared unwinking, forth from the tomb a dim form wriggled, crouched awhile fumbling, stood upright, and Mr. Dalroyd saw a vague head, awful and shapeless and crowned with curving horns. This dreadful thing stood awhile as if listening for distant sounds then took a stride forward, floundered over a grave and cursed fluently. Mr. Dalroyd loosed rigid fingers from his sword-hilt, picked up his cane and, keeping well in the shadow, began to follow this strange figure; ghost-like it flitted on among the tombs until, reaching the wall; it leapt nimbly over, stood to listen and glance furtively about, then set off down the road at a smart pace. Mr. Dalroyd, treading with infinite caution for the night was very still, followed whither it led, viewing the shapeless thing with gaze that never wavered. Thus, in a while, they reached a gra.s.sy bye-lane flanked on the one side by a thick hedge and on the other by a high wall. Here the figure paused and Mr. Dalroyd, shrinking into the shadow of the hedge, saw it glance up and down the lane, saw it lift long arms and heard a faint scuffling as, mounting this wall it paused awhile athwart the coping ere it vanished on the other side. Looping his cane on his wrist Mr. Dalroyd crossed the lane and drawing himself up peered over the wall in time to see this mysterious figure flit among the trees of an orchard, mount yet another wall and vanish again. Without more ado Mr. Dalroyd in turn clambered up and over the wall and dropping on soft, new-turned earth, continued the pursuit, that is to say he had crossed a smooth stretch of lawn and was in the very act of mounting the other wall when strong hands seized him from behind and a gruff voice said in his ear:

"You ain't no ghost, I'll swear! Right about turn and show us your face!" And Mr. Dalroyd was swung round so violently that his hat fell off. "Zounds!" exclaimed the Sergeant, "'tis nought but one o' these fine London sparks arter all!" Mr. Dalroyd swore. "Sir," said the Sergeant imperturbably, "why and wherefore d'ye trespa.s.s, and so late too? Sir, what's the evolution, or shall we say, manoover?"

"Rogue," said Mr. Dalroyd, "pick up my hat!"