Foxwell, not at all interested, went as far as loyalty ordered, in saying that, if occasion arose for his services in the matter, he would act as duty required; and offering the spy the freedom of the estate in the prosecution of inquiries. Filson, after a profound bow of acknowledgment, handed Foxwell a written description of the rebel, calling attention to his own name and address at the bottom of the sheet; declared himself the other’s very humble servant, bowed as low as before, and took his leave. Foxwell glanced carelessly over the written description, and then thrust it unfolded into his pocket. It had not power to drive from his mind the vexatious subject already lodged there. He frowned and sighed, and took an impatient turn up and down the room. Then, forcing his brow to smoothness and the corners of his mouth to pleasantness, he returned to his friends on the terrace. “You laughed at me the other day, Foxwell,” said Lady Strange, as he approached, “for telling you the place was haunted. But what do you say now? The ghost has been seen again, in the old garden yonder; and not only that same ghost—a man in a cloak—but a female figure as well.” “Two female figures, the girl said,” corrected Mrs. Winter. “Wonderful, most wonderful!” exclaimed Foxwell, smiling. “And whence comes this news?” “The keeper’s daughter has just told us,” said Rashleigh. “Her sweetheart, it appears, was coming last night from the village to see her, and took a short way through the fields into the park. ’Twas he saw the three figures in the garden; and one of them, it seems, was like that seen by the scullery-maid the other evening.” “The scullery-maid?” said Foxwell. “I remember: I promised to question her, but something put it out of my mind. Well, ’tis not too late: we’ll catechize her now—and the keeper’s daughter, too.” But the keeper’s daughter had gone home to the lodge, and the examination was confined to the kitchen girl, who came to the summons as much frightened as if she were brought, not to tell of a ghost, but to face one. Foxwell and his visitors seated themselves in the hall to hear her story, the other servants being excluded. By patient interrogation, Foxwell contrived to elicit an account hardly more circumstantial than Lady Strange had previously given him. The girl had pursued the cat with the intention of employing it against the mice in the dormitory of the maids. Drawn thus toward the garden, she had perceived the motionless cloaked figure, which had stared at her in a strange, death-like manner. It wore a sword, and she thought that in life “the gentleman might have been a king’s officer,” though she could not say what made her think so. The word “officer” seemed to touch some association in Foxwell’s mind. His hand went to the pocket containing the paper Filson had given him, and he showed a faint increase of interest in the few answers the girl had yet to make. When he had dismissed her, he turned smilingly to his guests: