"I don't know any, personally," said Cuthbert, purposely echoing Guy's bantering tone, though he noticed the matches he struck in vain, and the suppressed excitement of his manner. "But I should like to hear your experiences very much." "He paid me a visit last night," said Guy. "And what is he like?" Guy left off trying to light his pipe, and leant back in a corner of the big chair in which he was lounging. The plunge was made. He was shaken to pieces with the effort, but he still endeavoured to maintain a tone of indifference. "I think I'll have to tell you a little family history," he said; "if it won't bore you." "Not at all. Tell me just as you can--as you like." "Well, but you know, I believe, about the old traitor who drank himself to death from remorse, and naturally, haunted his descendants. Some of them drank, and, in fact, there was always an inclination to an occasional good-for-nought. Well, then came the Guy who was too late-- my namesake--so, by the way, was the traitor--that story you know, too. I don't believe my father, or grandfather, were quite all my aunt could have wished. They died young, you know; but I'm not aware that they ever saw the ghost. But, five years ago, when we went to Waynflete, to see Mrs John Palmer, I did." "You saw the ghost of your ancestor?" "Well! I had seen Guy's picture; I was full of it, and full of seeing the place for the first time, and the face flashed upon me just like the picture. The picture's _like me_, you know; absurdly so. I saw him-- plain as I see you. Well, that once wouldn't have mattered, it would only have been a queer thing. But--" "But that was not the only time?" said Cuthbert. "I never _saw_ him again till last night, but--I--_feel_ him. I wake up half mad with fear. I have dreamed of him. I don't know what it is, the fit seizes me, and when I've scourged the folly out of me, I faint, or my heart gets bad. I haven't quite been able to hide that; but no one knows why. No one knows that I am afraid of my own shadow!" "Gently, my dear boy," said Staunton, kindly. "Keep quiet for a minute. It's hard work telling me; makes your heart beat now, doesn't it?" "Let me get through it. These fits have come and knocked me up, over and over--muffed my exam--for my degree--made a fool of me, times out of number. But, last night--he was there--the whole of him, _myself_ in that queer old dress, as one might look when one's chance was over, and one wanted others to share one's disgrace. I saw him; but, oh, my God, Cuthbert! It's not the _seeing_; but no other Presence is ever so real--so close! So, I'm catching at a rope. He'll have me; I shall have to follow him--but--I'm trying to fight." Guy had dropped all his pretence at indifference; he spoke in short, stifled whispers, his eyes dilated with fear.