sound of footsteps. He put on his slippers, took a small oblong
phial out of his dressing-case, and opened the door. Right in front
of him he saw, in the wan moonlight, an old man of terrible aspect.
His eyes were as red burning coals; long grey hair fell over his
shoulders in matted coils; his garments, which were of antique cut,
were soiled and ragged, and from his wrists and ankles hung heavy
manacles and rusty gyves.

'My dear sir,' said Mr. Otis, 'I really must insist on your oiling
those chains, and have brought you for that purpose a small bottle
of the Tammany Rising Sun Lubricator. It is said to be completely
efficacious upon one application, and there are several testimonials
to that effect on the wrapper from some of our most eminent native
divines. I shall leave it here for you by the bedroom candles, and
will be happy to supply you with more should you require it.' With
these words the United States Minister laid the bottle down on a
marble table, and, closing his door, retired to rest.

For a moment the Canterville ghost stood quite motionless in natural
indignation; then, dashing the bottle violently upon the polished
floor, he fled down the corridor, uttering hollow groans, and
emitting a ghastly green light. Just, however, as he reached the
top of the great oak staircase, a door was flung open, two little
white-robed figures appeared, and a large pillow whizzed past his
head! There was evidently no time to be lost, so, hastily adopting
the Fourth Dimension of Space as a means of escape, he vanished
through the wainscoting, and the house became quite quiet.

On reaching a small secret chamber in the left wing, he leaned up
against a moonbeam to recover his breath, and began to try and