"We shall smell one if brimstone will do it. I hope he won't set himself on fire, or the scenic effect will be stronger than we bargained for." This was the beginning of a desultory conversation carried on at intervals between the two young gentlemen, of which, though Bill heard every sentence, he couldn't understand one. He made one effort to discover what Master Arthur was alluding to, but with no satisfactory result as we shall see. "Please, Master Arthur," he said desperately, "you don't think there'll be two ghosts, do you, sir?" "I should say," said Master Arthur, so slowly and with such gravity that Bill felt sure he was making fun of him, "I should say, Bill, that if a place is haunted at all there is no limit to the number of ghosts--fifty quite as likely as one.--What do you you say, Bartram?" "Quite so," said Bartram. Bill made no further attempts to understand the mystery. He listened, but only grew more and more bewildered at the dark hints he heard, and never understood what it all meant until the end came; when (as is not uncommon) he wondered how he could have been so stupid, and why he had not seen it all from the very first. They had now reached the turning point, and as they passed into the dark lane, where the wind was shuddering and shivering among the trees, Bill shuddered and shivered too, and felt very glad that the young gentlemen were with him, after all. Mr. Lindsay pulled out his watch. "Well?" said his friend. "Ten minutes to nine." Then they walked on in silence, Master Arthur with one arm through his friend's, and the one-legged donkey under the other; and Mr. Lindsay with his hand on Bill's shoulder. "I _should_ like a pipe," said Master Arthur presently; "it's so abominably damp." "What a fellow you are!" said Mr. Lindsay. "Out of the question! With the wind setting down the lane too! you talk of my cough--which is better, by the bye." "What a fellow _you_ are!" retorted the other. "Bartram, you are the oddest creature I know. Whatever you take up, you do drive at so. Now I have hardly got a lark afloat before I'm sick of it. I wish you'd tell me two things,--first, why are you so grave to-night? and secondly, what made you take up our young friend's cause so warmly?" "One answer will serve both questions," said Mr. Lindsay. "The truth is, old fellow, our young friend [and Bill felt certain that the "young friend" was himself] has a look of a little chap I was chum with at school--Regy Gordon. I don't talk about it often, for I can't very well; but he was killed--think of it, man!--_killed_ by such a piece of bullying as this! When they found him, he was quite stiff and speechless; he lived a few hours, but he only said two words,--my name, and amen." "Amen?" said Master Arthur, inquiringly.