had run foul of Mrs. Teague.

"Och! Lafetennant," she responded, "its not that _agra_! (here she
gave a twinge) that Judy Tague would ever spake of from the like of
you--but its against your goin' and insulting the jintl'm in the parlour
that I was spaking of--and a _rale_ jintl'm he is, I'll be bail."

But it was all of no avail. After holding forth for several minutes, now
at the top of her voice, now in a beseeching whine--the lieutenant again
got under weigh, and soon reached the parlour door; which after giving
a slight tap, he entered fully prepared to take its inmate by storm.
But, lo! he had vanished! It appeared impossible that any portion of the
previous conversation could have been wafted to his ears, but certain it
was, that in place of a living occupant of flesh and blood, nothing but
the wavering shadow of an ancient high-backed chair near the fire--which
cast a faint and uncertain light through the apartment--met the eyes
of the angry lieutenant. A heavy step overhead announced that he had
just retired to his sleeping-room. Thus was the now greatly increased
curiosity of the smoking club doomed to receive an unexpected check. The
stranger was evidently no ordinary person--the conversation gradually
sank away--and more than one individual of the company started in the
course of the evening as the wind now wailed with a strange unearthly
sound up the silent street, and now blew in violent gusts which made the
old house creak and groan to its very foundations. Our gallant friend,
the lieutenant, was perhaps the only individual absolutely unmoved in
the party; and his proposal to retake possession of the parlour met with
a general negative. Nettled at this, he declared that another sun should
not go down over his head, without obtaining some satisfactory account
of this mysterious visitant.