“Thank’ee kindly,” answered the Corporal; “but I’d like to ask you, Mr. Dumbrell, ha’ you ever known a ghost take harm from a pistol-ball fired point-blank?” “Never, nowise, nohow!” answered Mr. Dumbrell decidedly, “and because why? Because ghostesses be moighty ingenurious things, d’ye see, an’ can’t never be ’urted nowhere an’ nowhen!” “True for you, gaffer!” quoth Mr. Potter, surveying a soaring lark with an expression of placid and guileless pleasure. “I’ve ’eerd my grandfeäther say as it weren’t no manner o’ good a-shootin’ at a ghost ’cept you ’ad your piece charged wi’ a silver bullet, an’ even then ’twere allus to be expected as your bullet might bounce off the ghost—backwent-like—an’ strike ye wi’ mortal effec’, d’ye see. Good artenoon, sirs!” “An’ mind this,” added the Ancient One, bony finger a-wag, “it bean’t nowise ’ealthy-loike for no man to go nowheres nohow, nowhere an’ nowhen i’ the dark ’ereabouts—no!” Hereupon Mr. Potter touched his horse with the whip and away went that likely animal at such pace that the rattling cart and its occupants were very soon out of sight. “Ha!” quoth Sir John thoughtfully, as they pursued their way towards High Dering. “Hum! The hunting of spectres would seem to be a highly dangerous sport, Bob.” “Agreed, sir!” “And yet—notwithstanding—I think, yes—I think we will adventure it one of these nights, Bob.” “Very good, sir!” answered Robert the imperturbable. Reaching Dering Village at last, an unpleasant surprise awaited them; for no sooner had Sir John dismounted before the ‘Dering Arms’ than he was confronted by four stalwart men, formidable fellows armed with sticks and clad in a neat livery who, stepping out of the inn, stood grouped in the doorway, barring his entrance. “Well, my lads,” inquired Sir John, chin uplifted, “what is it?” “Ask ’im,” answered one insolently, a surly, blue-jowled fellow, with a back-handed gesture towards the woeful landlord who stood shrinking in the background. “Be good enough to explain, Mr. Nixon.” “Why, ye see, sirs,” mumbled the landlord, “these be Mus’ Sturton’s men, an’ this be Dering, an’ Mus’ Sturton’s word is as you must go.” “You mean that we are to be turned out?” “Mus’ Sturton says as you must go, sirs,” repeated the landlord miserably. “Pray, what livery do these men wear?” “Why, sir, it be the Dering livery, though they be straangers ’ereabouts——” “Ha!” murmured Sir John, “I thought I recognised it. And we are to go, are we?” “An’ the sooner the better!” growled the blue-jowled man truculently. Here ex-Corporal Robert, leaving the horses to stand, made preparations for instant action but paused in grim surprise, for Sir John was laughing in sheer, unalloyed delight. “You hear, Bob, you hear?” he gasped. “Come, let us go.” “Go, sir!” exclaimed the Corporal. “Go!” “At once, Bob. So get our valises and effects—I see Mr. Nixon has ’em all ready for us—and let us begone.”