"It must be pretty cold out there," said the Haunted Man, with
vague politeness. "Do you ever--will you--take some hot water and
brandy?"

"No," said the Goblin.

"Perhaps you'd like it cold, by way of change?" continued the
Haunted Man, correcting himself, as he remembered the peculiar
temperature with which the Goblin was probably familiar.

"Time flies," said the Goblin coldly. "We have no leisure for idle
talk. Come!" He moved his ghostly truncheon toward the window,
and laid his hand upon the other's arm. At his touch the body of
the Haunted Man seemed to become as thin and incorporeal as that of
the Goblin himself, and together they glided out of the window into
the black and blowy night.

In the rapidity of their flight the senses of the Haunted Man
seemed to leave him. At length they stopped suddenly.

"What do you see?" asked the Goblin.

"I see a battlemented mediaeval castle. Gallant men in mail ride
over the drawbridge, and kiss their gauntleted fingers to fair
ladies, who wave their lily hands in return. I see fight and fray
and tournament. I hear roaring heralds bawling the charms of
delicate women, and shamelessly proclaiming their lovers. Stay. I
see a Jewess about to leap from a battlement. I see knightly
deeds, violence, rapine, and a good deal of blood. I've seen
pretty much the same at Astley's."