At this moment the door was flung open, and Lawless, Archer, and one or two more men of my acquaintance came tumbling over one another into the room, laughing vociferously at some unknown jest. Owing to the shape of the apartment, the place where Mr. Frampton had seated himself was not easily to be seen as you entered, consequently none of them observed him.
“Fairlegh, old boy!” began Archer—
“Eh! here's such a tremendous go!” broke in Lawless. “Where's the smelling-bottle? Archer swears he has just seen the ghost of Noah's great-grandfather, as he appeared when dressed in his Sunday clothes!”
“'Pon my word it's true, and what will you lay it's a lie?” sang Archer. “Oh! if you had but seen him, Fairlegh; he looked like—hang me if I know anything ugly enough to compare him to.”
“Was he at all like me, sir?—umph!” inquired Mr. Frampton in his gruffest tone, putting on the broad-brimmed hat, and rising slowly from his seat as he spoke.
“The very apparition itself, by Jingo!” exclaimed Archer, starting back in alarm, half real, half affected, thereby nearly overturning Lawless, who was just behind him.
"Hold hard there, young fellow; where are you jibbing to? You'll smash my panels in a minute, if you don't look out—eh?—why surely it's the old boy from Helmstone,” continued Lawless aside; “Mr. Frampton—sir, your most obedient.”
“Same to you, sir,” was the reply; “glad to see your spirits don't seem likely to fail you, Mr. Lawless—laughing at me, all of 'em, impudent young dogs—what's t'other one's name, Frank? the one that took me for a ghost—umph!”
“Allow me to introduce you—Mr. Frampton, Mr. Archer, Mr. Green, Mr. Lacy, Mr. Richards.”
The individuals named delivered themselves of a series of nods and jerks as I pronounced their various patronymics, and Mr. Frampton took off his hat, and made a polite bow to each man separately; then turning to Archer, he said:—