Having thought the thing out pretty thoroughly, as he fancied, and resolved at the same time to feel his way toward negotiations with Mistress Catanach, he turned and rode home.

After a tolerable dinner he was sitting over a bottle of the port which he prized beyond anything else his succession had brought him, when the door of the dining-room opened suddenly and the butler appeared, pale with terror.  “My lord! my lord!” he stammered as he closed the door behind him.

“Well?  What the devil’s the matter now?  Whose cow’s dead?”

“Your lordship didn’t hear it, then?” faltered the butler.

“You’ve been drinking, Bings,” said the marquis, lifting his seventh glass of port.

“I didn’t say I heard it, my lord.”

“Heard what, in the name of Beelzebub?”

“The ghost, my lord.”

“The what?” shouted the marquis.

“That’s what they call it, my lord.  It’s all along of having that wizard’s chamber in the house, my lord.”

“You’re a set of fools,” said the marquis—­“the whole kit of you!”

“That’s what I say, my lord.  I don’t know what to do with them, stericking and screaming.  Mrs. Courthope is trying her best with them, but it’s my belief she’s about as bad herself.”

The marquis finished his glass of wine, poured out and drank another, then walked to the door.  When the butler opened it a strange sight met his eyes.  All the servants in the house, men and women, Duncan and Malcolm alone excepted, had crowded after the butler, every one afraid of being left behind; and there gleamed the crowd of ghastly faces in the light of the great hall-fire.  Demon stood in front, his mane bristling and his eyes flaming.  Such was the silence that the marquis heard the low howl of the waking wind, and the snow like the patting of soft hands against the windows.  He stood for a moment, more than half enjoying their terror, when from somewhere in the building a far-off shriek, shrill and piercing, rang in every ear.  Some of the men drew in their breath with a gasping sob, but most of the women screamed outright; and that set the marquis cursing.

Duncan and Malcolm had but just entered the bed-room of the latter when the shriek rent the air close beside, and for a moment deafened them.  So agonized, so shrill, so full of dismal terror was it, that Malcolm stood aghast, and Duncan started to his feet with responsive outcry.  But Malcolm at once recovered himself.  “Bide here till I come back,” he whispered, and hurried noiselessly out.

In a few minutes he returned, during which all had been still.  “Noo, daddy,” he said, “I’m gaein’ to drive in the door o’ the neist room.  There’s some deevilry at wark there.  Stan’ ye i’ the door, an’ ghaist or deevil ‘at wad win by ye, grip it, an’ haud on like Demon the dog.”

“She will so, she will so,” muttered Duncan in a strange tone.  “Ochone! that she’ll not pe hafing her turk with her!  Ochone! ochone!”