"Yes, sir."
"And mine?"
"Is number twelve—the oak room. His is at yonder end."
"'Twas there the figure disappeared."
"Figure? Well, there ain't no ghosts or ghostesses either in the Red Lion that ever I heard of, and I have been here both man and boy these many years."
"How is this traveller dressed?" I continued.
"In brown broadcloth, I think, master."
"With a rusty old cocked hat?"
"Yes, bound with black galloon."
"Is his left hand wounded?"