"I heard a wow—wow—whisper!" sobbed the lady.
"A whisper—nonsinse!" said "His Majesty."
"Oh, listen!" said Mrs. Russell, holding him tight, so that he could not get free. At this "His Majesty" remained perfectly still, and listened. There certainly were some low, indistinct sounds, among which were whispers.
"Shure it's the gyerruls," said "His Majesty." "That's what it is."
"Oh, look! look!" cried Mrs. Russell. "The ghost! the ghost!"
And with a loud cry Mrs. Russell fell back. "His Majesty" encircled her with the royal arms, and gently deposited her on the floor, standing thus in deep perplexity. But at this instant a sight caught his eye which made him start. It was Ashby's figure traversing the room, through the moonlight. He had waited up to the last moment and had just taken his departure, but as he moved along the floor toward the chimney the royal eye saw him.
"Be jabers!" said "His Majesty," "ghost or no ghost, I must see to this. The castle's haunted as sure as a gun, but that isn't the figure an' farrum av a maydoiayval ghost, so it isn't."
Mrs. Russell now revived, and struggled up to her feet.
"Is—is—it gig—gig—gone?" she asked, with a shudder.
"Sorra a one av me knows," said "His Majesty." "I'm going to invistigate."