“‘But I believe in ’em,’ said the boy Jeff, who was seated on the other side of the table, and looked at us so earnestly that we could scarce help smiling—though we didn’t feel in a smiling humour at the time, for it was getting dark, and we had got to talking in low tones and looking anxiously over our shoulders, you know—
“‘Oh yes, I know,’ replied the sportsman, with a laugh; ‘I have shuddered and grue-oo-ed many a time over ghost-stories. Well?’
“‘I don’t believe in ’em, Jeff. Why do you?’ asked Stumps, in a scoffing tone.
“‘Because I hear one every night a’most when I go down into the dark places below to fetch things. There’s one particular spot where the ghost goes tap-tap-tapping continually.’
“‘Fiddlededee,’ said Stumps.
“‘Come down, and you shall hear it for yourself,’ said Jeff.
“Now, they say that Stumps is a coward, though he boasts a good deal—”
“You may say,” interrupted the sportsman, “that Stumps is a coward because he boasts a good deal. Boasting is often a sign of cowardice—though not always.”
“Well,” continued Robin, “being ashamed to draw back, I suppose, he agreed to accompany Jeff.
“‘Won’t you come too, Slagg?’ said Stumps.