asserted itself, and he determined to go and speak to the other
ghost as soon as it was daylight. Accordingly, just as the dawn was
touching the hills with silver, he returned towards the spot where
he had first laid eyes on the grisly phantom, feeling that, after
all, two ghosts were better than one, and that, by the aid of his
new friend, he might safely grapple with the twins. On reaching the
spot, however, a terrible sight met his gaze. Something had
evidently happened to the spectre, for the light had entirely faded
from its hollow eyes, the gleaming falchion had fallen from its
hand, and it was leaning up against the wall in a strained and
uncomfortable attitude. He rushed forward and seized it in his
arms, when, to his horror, the head slipped off and rolled on the
floor, the body assumed a recumbent posture, and he found himself
clasping a white dimity bed-curtain, with a sweeping-brush, a
kitchen cleaver, and a hollow turnip lying at his feet! Unable to
understand this curious transformation, he clutched the placard with
feverish haste, and there, in the grey morning light, he read these
fearful words:-


YE OLDE GHOSTE

Ye Onlie True and Originale Spook.
Beware of Ye Imitationes.
All others are Counterfeite.


The whole thing flashed across him. He had been tricked, foiled,
and outwitted! The old Canterville look came into his eyes; he
ground his toothless gums together; and, raising his withered hands