"I dunno rightly, sir, an' never shall this side o' glory, but 'twere a shape, a thing—I might call it a ghost an' I might call it a phanitum; hows'ever 't were a shape, sir, as I seed a-floatin' an' a-wailin'—Lord, I'll never forget 'ow it wailed!"
Here he mopped his brow at the mere recollection.
"But do you never see any one about by day?"
"Aye, sir, there be a great, sooty black man for one, a hugeous niggermoor with devil's eyes as roll an' teeth like a dog—there's 'im! An' there's three or four desp'rit-seemin' coves as looks like prize fighters—though they ain't often seed abroad an' then mostly drivin' be'ind fast 'orses, sir—coach, sir."
"And what of the owner of the place, Mr. Trenchard, I think his name is?"
"Very seldom stirs abroad, sir, an' then allus in a fast-travellin' closed carriage; though there's a-plenty o' company now an' then, 'ard-ridin' gentlemen—specially one as usually travels down from Lunnon in a chaise wi' red wheels—"
"What—a black-bodied chaise picked out in yellow?" I enquired sharply.
"Aye, sir, the same."
"And are there lady visitors as well as gentlemen?"
"Aye, there are so, sir—coveys of 'em, very fine feathers an' pretty as pictoors t' look at but—"