“Exactly, sir ... and surprised Mr. S. addressing old Mr. Dumbrell with extreme vin-dictiveness, your honour, and old Mr. Dumbrell’s hat in a puddle, sir. Whereupon, felt it urgent to wipe Mr. S.’s face with said hat, and so the action ended, sir. But, same evening, being approximately fifteen or, say, twelve minutes to nine o’ the clock, observing Mr. S. berating old Dame Haryott in fashion out-rageous, felt called upon to re-monstrate with said Mr. S., who, there and then, sir, did call up two fellows, very tough customers indeed, and ordered ’em to set about me, which they immediately did. Being thus outnumbered three to one, sir, attacked on both flanks and centre, I posted my rear agin a wall and was preparing to maintain position to extremity when, at critical moment, received reinforcements in shape of a man by name Potter, who played a small bludgeon most determined and with so nice a dexterity as ’twas a pleasure to witness, with the happy result, sir, that the enemy drew off, leaving us masters o’ the field, your honour, which happened to be Dame Haryott’s front garden.” “And what, Bob—what do you think of Mr. Potter?” “That he’s one as takes a deal o’ knowing, sir. But, your honour, he happened to tell me a thing as set me wondering. He told me that Mr. S. walks over to ‘The Black Horse’ at Wilmington very frequent, and there meets or con-sorts with Christopher Oxham, Lord Sayle’s bailiff.” “Well, Robert?” “Well, sir, I determined to follow Mr. S. ... which I did ... on-perceived, and got sight o’ this Oxham, a big chap, very bold and loud-voiced. They seemed to have a deal to say, and, as they parted, Oxham says: ‘My lord returns this week and the lads are all ready, so at word from you we’ll act!’” “At word from Sturton!” repeated Sir John, and rode awhile musing. “Sir,” said Robert, at last, “begging your pardon, but do you happen to believe in ghosts, spectres, phantoms and such-like apparitions?” “Why, no, Bob; I can’t say that I do. Why?” “Well, I thought I didn’t, sir, but that night I—saw one ... aye, manifest, your honour!” “How?” questioned Sir John, glancing up sharply. “You actually saw a ghost, Bob?” “‘Actually’ is the word, sir. All I know is, that I saw something leaning over Wilmington Churchyard wall ... a thing, your honour ... as I don’t want to see again!” “What sort of thing?” “Well, sir, ’tis hard to tell ... and the light was bad ... but it looked about eight foot high and had a pair o’ horns a yard wide and more ... tipped wi’ fire! Aye, sir, I know it sounds outrageous, but it looked worse than it sounds! Mr. S. see it too ... he was walking p’r’aps a dozen yards or so in my front and me creeping in his rear ... and suddenly he gives a kind o’ groan and dropped to his knees, then scrambles to his feet and away he goes at a run, gasping and groaning ’till he was out o’ sight.” “And what did you, Bob?”