“What mean all this uproar and fright?” said the old knight, rising in great anger. “Are ye all turned mad, ye noisy, raving knaves? Explain, I say, explain!”
But none of the servants could explain anything, for they were all out of breath, and as pale as death.
After a time, when Roger was dragged out with his nose bleeding, he looked about him with a wild and frightened gaze, as he stammered out,
“O-h-h-h, s-i-r! we-e-’ve s-e-e-n him!”
“Seen him! Seen who, knave? Speak quickly! or, by my honour, I’ll whip my sword through your trembling carcase!” said old Sir Richard, getting red in the face. “Speak, some of you!” he continued, looking daggers at his alarmed domestics.
“Oh! m-e-r-cy! master, m-e-r-cy!” croaked out Roger, falling on his knees.
“Speak, rascal! Who have ye seen?”
“The skeleton! ghastly, ghostly, all bones, and sword in hand, grinning like an angry demon.”
“A skeleton!”
“Aye, sir; two on ’em.”