We lured him down there that very night; and--well, there, it was one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen, the way Johnson sprang upon that tombstone and wept. Dad and old Squibbins, the gardener, cried like children when they saw it. Johnson has never troubled us any more in the house since then. It spends every night now, sobbing on the grave, and seems quite happy. "There still?" Oh yes. I'll take you fellows down and show you it, next time you come to our place: 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. are its general hours, 10 to 2 on Saturdays. INTERLUDE--THE DOCTOR'S STORY It made me cry very much, that story, young Biffles told it with so much feeling. We were all a little thoughtful after it, and I noticed even the old Doctor covertly wipe away a tear. Uncle John brewed another bowl of punch, however, and we gradually grew more resigned. The Doctor, indeed, after a while became almost cheerful, and told us about the ghost of one of his patients. I cannot give you his story. I wish I could. They all said afterwards that it was the best of the lot--the most ghastly and terrible--but I could not make any sense of it myself. It seemed so incomplete. He began all right and then something seemed to happen, and then he was finishing it. I cannot make out what he did with the middle of the story. It ended up, I know, however, with somebody finding something; and that put Mr. Coombes in mind of a very curious affair that took place at an old Mill, once kept by his brother-in-law. Mr. Coombes said he would tell us his story, and before anybody could stop him, he had begun. Mr Coombes said the story was called - THE HAUNTED MILL OR THE RUINED HOME (Mr. Coombes's Story) Well, you all know my brother-in-law, Mr. Parkins (began Mr. Coombes, taking the long clay pipe from his mouth, and putting it behind his ear: we did not know his brother-in-law, but we said we did, so as to save time), and you know of course that he once took a lease of an old Mill in Surrey, and went to live there. Now you must know that, years ago, this very mill had been occupied by a wicked old miser, who died there, leaving--so it was rumoured- -all his money hidden somewhere about the place. Naturally enough, every one who had since come to live at the mill had tried to find the treasure; but none had ever succeeded, and the local wiseacres said that nobody ever would, unless the ghost of the miserly miller should, one day, take a fancy to one of the tenants, and disclose to him the secret of the hiding-place. My brother-in-law did not attach much importance to the story, regarding it as an old woman's tale, and, unlike his predecessors, made no attempt whatever to discover the hidden gold.