“Pooh! nonsense!” said the old gentleman, rising; “ghosts can’t hurt you. For my own part, I should rather like to see one. Good night, gentlemen.” “Good night,” said the others. “And I only hope Jerry’ll pay you a visit,” added the nervous man as the door closed. “Bring some more whisky, George,” said a stout commercial; “I want keeping up when the talk turns this way.” “Shall I light the gas, Mr. Malcolm?” said George. “No; the fire’s very comfortable,” said the traveller. “Now, gentlemen, any of you know any more?” “I think we’ve had enough,” said another man; “we shall be thinking we see spirits next, and we’re not all like the old gentleman who’s just gone.” “Old humbug!” said Hirst. “I should like to put him to the test. Suppose I dress up as Jerry Bundler and go and give him a chance of displaying his courage?” “Bravo!” said Malcolm, huskily, drowning one or two faint “Noes.” “Just for the joke, gentlemen.” “No, no! Drop it, Hirst,” said another man. “Only for the joke,” said Hirst, somewhat eagerly. “I’ve got some things upstairs in which I am going to play in the Rivals—knee-breeches, buckles, and all that sort of thing. It’s a rare chance. If you’ll wait a bit I’ll give you a full-dress rehearsal, entitled, ‘Jerry Bundler; or, The Nocturnal Strangler.’” “You won’t frighten us,” said the commercial, with a husky laugh. “I don’t know that,” said Hirst, sharply; “it’s a question of acting, that’s all. I’m pretty good, ain’t I, Somers?” “Oh, you’re all right—for an amateur,” said his friend, with a laugh. “I’ll bet you a level sov. you don’t frighten me,” said the stout traveller. “Done!” said Hirst. “I’ll take the bet to frighten you first and the old gentleman afterwards. These gentlemen shall be the judges.” “You won’t frighten us, sir,” said another man, “because we’re prepared for you; but you’d better leave the old man alone. It’s dangerous play.” “Well, I’ll try you first,” said Hirst, springing up. “No gas, mind.” He ran lightly upstairs to his room, leaving the others, most of whom had been drinking somewhat freely, to wrangle about his proceedings. It ended in two of them going to bed. “He’s crazy on acting,” said Somers, lighting his pipe. “Thinks he’s the equal of anybody almost. It doesn’t matter with us, but I won’t let him go to the old man. And he won’t mind so long as he gets an opportunity of acting to us.” “Well, I hope he’ll hurry up,” said Malcolm, yawning; “it’s after twelve now.” Nearly half an hour passed. Malcolm drew his watch from his pocket and was busy winding it, when George, the waiter, who had been sent on an errand to the bar, burst suddenly into the room and rushed towards them. “’E’s comin’, gentlemen,” he said breathlessly. “Why, you’re frightened, George,” said the stout commercial, with a chuckle.