“By means of your horns and bullock’s hide, George?”
“Aye, this ’ere!” answered Mr. Potter, laying his hand upon the shapeless bundle. “A good friend it’s been to pore Potter, sir. Ghosts be useful things hereabouts.”
“So I have observed!” smiled Sir John. “And, indeed, you were a terribly convincing ghost.”
“Naun so bad, sir,” admitted Mr. Potter modestly. “I done my best off an’ on. Though I don’t like hauntin’ in the open—gimme a wall! Ye see, some folks be apt to shoot ... there be four or five bullet-’oles in this ’ere ghost arlready!”
Talking thus, they at last reached the highroad, and Sir John saw the lights of Alfriston twinkling before them. Here the discreet Mr. Potter stopped and, lifting finger to eyebrow, bade Sir John good-night.
“You’ll be arl right now, I rackon, sir,” said he.
But Sir John reached down to grasp his hand.
“You know who I am, I think?” he questioned.
“Aye, Sir John, you be Dering o’ Dering.”
“And a magistrate besides, George Potter, a justice o’ the Peace and Quorum.”