"Why then, what of this Dalroyd?"
"O!" said my lady, knitting black brows, "I'll manage him also."
"Look'ee Bet, I'll allow you've a head, but this fellow's dangerous."
"How so, Charles?"
"Well, he's not afraid o' ghosts for one thing——"
"Ghosts?"
"Y'see Bet, when I reached Westerham my difficulty was to get word with you and for the first night and day or so I lay hid in the ruined mill. And having nought better to do, I started to haunt the place and by means of an old sack and a pair of ram's horns I contrived to be a sufficiently convincing ghost——" Here his lordship chuckled.
"'Twas madness, Charles."
"So 'twas and yet, I vow——" His lordship chuckled again.
"But what of Mr. Dalroyd, Charles?"