Thinking in this way and considering whether it would not be advisable to proclaim his marriage so as to release his wife from the odious attentions of Clarence Burgh, the young man arrived at the house. He was met in the hall by Mrs. Petley, who announced that Major Tidman was waiting to see her young master. Rupert nodded in an absent-minded way and was going to the library where the Major was kicking his heels, when Mrs. Petley caught him by the arm. "It's walking again," said Mrs. Petley, whose fat face was pale, "and say what you like Master Rupert, trouble is coming." She was a stout old dame with a red face suggestive of drink, a most unfair thing to be said of her as she drank nothing stronger than gin and water, one tumbler a night before retiring. But Mrs. Petley had been a cook in her early days; later on she assumed the position of Rupert's nurse, and finally, having married Petley the butler, she became housekeeper of Royabay. She was a common vulgar old woman, but loyal to the core, and adored Rupert. When he had to dismiss the greater part of his servants he retained John Petley, and John Petley's wife, who continued to serve him faithfully and always hoped for better days. Mrs. Petley, being intensely superstitious, was always influenced by the appearance of Abbot Raoul whose walking was supposed to predict bad luck to the Ainsleighs. If the ghost did not appear Mrs. Petley was happy, but when it did she always prognosticated evil. And it must be admitted that Rupert usually had more trouble with his creditors when Abbot Raoul _did_ visit his old haunts. He seemed to be a most malignant spirit. But Rupert as an educated man, was not going to admit occult influence. "Nonsense Mrs. Petley," said he, shaking her off, "so far as trouble is concerned Abbot Raoul might remain visible for ever. Am I ever out of trouble?" "No, that you ain't, worse luck. But this walking means something extra special as I said to John." "Where did you see the old beast, I mean Abbot Raoul of course." Mrs. Petley started. "Hush deary," she whispered looking round in a fearful manner, "don't speak evil of speerits. It may be round, and you might anger it. I saw it in the cloisters." "Near the place?" asked Rupert. "Aye, standing on the black square where its mortal body was burnt poor soul. It was pointing to a tree." "To what tree--there are plenty in the cloisters." "To the copper beech, as you might say Master Rupert. And angry enough he looked. I nearly fainted." "You should be used to the ghost by this time Mrs. Petley." "Ghosts is things custom won't help you with," said Mrs. Petley mysteriously, "they freeze your blood every time. Just as I was thinking of a good scream and a faint, it vanished." "Into thin air like the witches in Macbeth," said Rupert lightly. "Well it doesn't need Abbot Raoul to come and tell me trouble is near. I'm likely to have a good deal by the end of the year."