"Consequently you don't fear ghosts?"
"No, sir."
"Neither do I, Joseph, and 'tis nigh upon the witching hour, bring me my hat and cane." And Mr. Dalroyd rose languidly.
"Sir," said Joseph as he handed his master the articles in question, "might I suggest one of your travelling-pistols——"
"No, Joseph, no, 'twould drag my pocket out o' shape, and ghosts are impervious to pistols or shall we say 'barkers' 'tis the more professional term for 'em, I believe?"
Once again the obsequious Joseph started slightly, observing which, Mr. Dalroyd flashed white teeth in languid amusement. "I may be gone an hour or more, Joseph, remain awake to undress me."
"Very good, sir! And if I might suggest, sir, 'tis said the ghost walks the churchyard o' nights latterly."
"That sounds sufficiently ghostly!" nodded Mr. Dalroyd. "And by the way, let your tongue remain discreetly inactive—for your own sake, Joseph!"
"Very good, sir—certainly!—and may you burn in everlasting fire!" added the obsequious Joseph under his breath as he watched his master's languid figure out of sight—his eyes seeming closer together than ever.