"Fellow, my lud?"
"Mr. Dalroyd."
"I so did, sir—same being in the act o' scaling wall—taking my lady's garden by escalade as ye might say."
"'Twas Dalroyd, you're—quite sure, Zeb?"
"If 'twasn't—'twere a ghost sir."
"What d'ye mean?"
"The ghost of an officer of Ogle's as his honour killed in Flanders in a duel, Master Tom."
"Ah!" said the Viscount thoughtfully. "A duel!"
"Aye, sir, only this man's name were Effingham."
"A duel!" repeated the Viscount. "'Twas over a woman of course?"