by a burst of laughter which continued for near a minute, and which,
though it echoed almost in his ears, and came apparently from the very air
round about him, yet sounded faint and unsubstantial as if a vast distance
nevertheless intervened. Whether near or far, it was unmistakably the
laughter of Sir Archibald, but wilder and more scornful than had ever been
heard from his lips. The honest footman was now thoroughly frightened, and
made the best of his way out of the chamber; but before he could cross the
next room and reach the passage-way beyond, the living and peremptory
tones of Sir Archibald himself overtook him, and brought him back with
failing knees and pallid cheeks to where the black-haired baronet was
standing in the doorway. There he stood in flesh and blood, but cloaked,
booted, and spurred, as if just returned from a journey.

"What were you doing in this room?" demanded the baronet.

The man faltered out his errand.

"Hear this, once for all, and remember it," said the baronet, nor sternly
nor roughly, but with a concentration of purpose in his mellow voice that
seemed to stamp the words into the hearer's soul. "No one may enter this
chamber except I open the door. Else harm may happen which I could not
prevent. That is all. Now send Mr. Mawgage to me."

That was all, but it was quite enough; in fact, the difficulty thereafter
was to induce any one to venture into the room on any terms. It was
believed to be haunted, and that Sir Archibald was either himself the
ghost, or was in some way responsible for there being one.

I have mentioned this story, to which the reader already possesses the
clew, only by way of showing that Sir Archibald was making use, at that