“And you did not think of any explanation of the phenomenon?”

“No, I did not:  it seemed more mysterious even than the ringing of the bell.”

“To obtuse people it does.”

“I thought the abbot might be feeling without a home, and sympathized with him, I assure you, very heartily.”

“I can tell you what it is:  the servants had to rise at three this morning to work.  It is the light shining out from the laundry-window:  I’ve seen it often enough.”

“Well, it was a providential ghost for you and Edwin.”

“[illegible]” said John when they were assembled at breakfast next morning, looking no worse for the excitement of the previous evening, having all slept well:  if the bell had rung it had disturbed no one at all.  Mr. Forrester and Bessie had not made any one the wiser of the well-timed appearance of the abbot’s ghost which had played such an effective part in their previous night’s drama,—­“I say,” he said looking at Mr. Forrester and then at Bessie, “there is some understanding between you two; you are always looking at each other, and when you entered the room this morning you [illegible], and started off [illegible] been caught.  But I have [illegible] this time.”

Bessie realized that her secret had become common property, and blushed becomingly.

Mr. Forrester said, “What have you suspected, John?”

“That Bessie and you laid your heads together to make the bell ring last night to frighten us.  Remember, I’m not stupid altogether.”

“I assure you, John, I had nothing to do with the ringing of the bell,” Bessie said.

“Nor had I,” said Edwin.

“That’s queer, then,” said John; “but I’m sure there’s something of some kind between you two:  you’re planning something, I know.  What is it?”

“Wise people don’t reveal their plans to every one till near the time for executing them, John,” said Edwin.

“Oh, very well,” John answered:  “you can keep them to yourselves.  I dare say it’s nothing of consequence;” and having finished his breakfast, John was off to his out-door business.  The shortest cut to his destination—­and he always took short cuts—­was through the kitchen, and as he hastily brushed along the wall toward the door he was brought up suddenly by a loud peal of the bell, and he looked at one of the servants, who was working at the table, as much as to say, “Do you hear that?”

She answered his look:  “Yes, I ha’en, but there’s naebody at the door.  It was yu that rang the bell:  ye cam against that bag of worsted clues for durning that I hung on the bell-wine yesterday.  When onybody happens to touch it the weight o’ ’t gars the bell ring; I would hae to ta’en off.”

With this simple and inglorious explanation John rushed to the dining-room where he found Mrs. Forrester and the chatelaine in deep Conspiracy again; and to this hour the ghost of Cockhoolet is a matter (if you can use that word in connection with a ghost at all) of faith and not of sight.