“Hush!” exclaimed Mr Hemson, and a dead silence fell upon the group.
“Well, what is it?” said my friend, holding his glass to the kettle-spout.
“I fancied I heard a noise,” said Mr Hemson, while all listened attentively.
“Pooh,” said my friend; “the wind,” and he then filled up his glass and placed it upon the table, but the next moment he started up.
“Well, what now?” said Mr Hemson.
“Didn’t you hear that?” exclaimed my friend.
“No, what?” said Mr Hemson.
“Why that noise—there!” he exclaimed, and now every man started to his feet, having distinctly heard some sounds proceeding from the direction of the hall.
“Hush, be quiet,” whispered Mr Hemson, hastily examining his lanthorn. “Now then, follow me,” and all hastily passed up the few steps and stood in the hall listening to the sound as of some one talking in the room right in front—the dining-room.
The hall was quite dark save where the light from the breakfast-parlour shone out and cast a long streak upon the dining-room door, while there, each man holding his breath, and armed as they were with stout walking-sticks, pokers, or whatever came to their reach, the party stood listening as the loud utterance of some voice reached their ears, succeeded by various noises, as if there were some occupant of the room.