“Owd place is harnted,” said a deep voice from the crowd, the speaker having covered his mouth with his hand, so as to disguise his voice.
“Shame!” said the rector sternly. “I did not think I had a parishioner who could give utterance to such absurd sentiments.”
“Then what made bell ring?” cried another voice.
“I do not know yet,” said the rector, gravely; “but there must have been some good and sufficient reason.”
“Perhaps one of the bells was left sticking up,” said Macey—a remark which evoked a roar of laughter.
“It is nearly two o’clock, my good friends,” said the rector, quietly; “and we are doing no good discussing this little puzzle. Leave it till daylight, and let us all return home to our beds. Chakes, have the goodness to lock the door. Good-night, gentlemen. Doctor, you are coming my way; young gentlemen, please.”
He marched off with the doctor, followed by his four pupils, till Distin increased his pace a little, and contrived to get so near that the doctor half turned and hesitated for Distin to come level.
“Perhaps you can explain it, my young friend,” he said; and Distin joined in the conversation.
Meanwhile Gilmore and Macey were talking volubly, while Vane seemed to be listening.
“It’s all gammon about haunting and ghosts and goblins,” said Gilmore. “Chaps who wrote story-books invented all that kind of stuff, same as they did about knights in full armour throwing their arms round beautiful young ladies, and bounding on to their chargers and galloping off.”