The learned gentlemen stood very close together on the lobby, and looked over their shoulders.
“Come into my room, Sir—won’t you? You may as well” (the “Sir” applying to both gentlemen), said William, doing the honours in his night-shirt.
“I don’t see any great good,” observed Doctor Drake, turning the key again in the door, as he followed the clergyman in, “we can do by going down again. If there was a chance of finding anything, but whatever it is it’s gone by this time, and—and going down would be a mere flourish, don’t you think?”
“I wish we had the bottle of Old Tom that’s in the locker,” said William, who, behind the curtain, was making an imperfect toilet; “but I suppose it’s too far” and they all looked a little uneasy.
“No, no,” said the clergyman, morally, “we’ve had enough—quite enough.”
“Unless we all went down together for it,” said Doctor Drake.
“No, no, pray no more to-night,” said the rector, peremptorily.
“I’ve pipes and a lot of latachia here,” said William, emerging in trowsers and dressing-gown. “I’ve been trying it for the last ten days. Suppose we smoke a little.”
“Very good idea,” said the rector, who had no objection to an occasional pipe under the rose.
So they poked up the fire, and laid a block of coal on, and found that it was half-past four o’clock, and they chatted, thoughtfully, but no more upon the subject of the apparition; and when daylight appeared they made a hasty toilet, had an early breakfast in the parlour; and the good Doctor Wagget, with his eyes very red, and looking as rakish as so respectable a clergyman could, appointed William an hour to meet him at the Rectory that day, and the party broke up.