“Do so, Dick,” said my lord, “and you shall have my thanks for it.”

“This letter,” said he, “I imagine to be the contrivance of Edmund, or some ingenious friend of his, to conceal some designs they have against the peace of this family, which has been too often disturbed upon that rascal’s account.”

“But what end could be proposed by it?” said the Baron.

“Why, one part of the scheme is to cover Edmund’s departure, that is clear enough; for the rest, we can only guess at it—­ perhaps he may be concealed somewhere in that apartment, from whence he may rush out in the night, and either rob or murder us; or, at least, alarm and terrify the family.”

The Baron smiled.

“You shoot beyond the mark, sir, and overshoot yourself, as you have done before now; you shew only your inveteracy against that poor lad, whom you cannot mention with temper.  To what purpose should he shut himself up there, to be starved?”

“Starved! no, no! he has friends in this house (looking at Oswald), who will not suffer him to want anything; those who have always magnified his virtues, and extenuated his faults, will lend a hand to help him in time of need; and, perhaps, to assist his ingenious contrivances.”

Oswald shrugged up his shoulders, and remained silent.

“This is a strange fancy of yours, Dick,” said my lord; but I am willing to pursue it,—­first, to discover what you drive at; and, secondly, to satisfy all that are here present of the truth or falsehood of it, that they may know what value to set upon your sagacity hereafter.  Let us all go over that apartment together; and let Joseph be called to attend us thither.”

Oswald offered to call him, but Wenlock stopped him.  “No, father,” said he, “you must stay with us; we want your ghostly counsel and advice; Joseph shall have no private conference with you.”

“What mean you,” said Oswald, “to insinuate to my lord against me or Joseph?  But your ill-will spares nobody.  It will one day be known who is the disturber of the peace of this family; I wait for that time, and am silent.”

Joseph came; when he was told whither they were going, he looked hard at Oswald.  Wenlock observed them.

“Lead the way, father,” said he, “and Joseph shall follow us.”

Oswald smiled.

“We will go where Heaven permits us,” said he; “alas! the wisdom of man can neither hasten, nor retard, its decrees.”

They followed the father up stairs, and went directly to the haunted apartment.  The Baron unlocked the door; he bid Joseph open the shutters, and admit the daylight, which had been excluded for many years.  They went over the rooms above stairs, and then descended the staircase, and through the lower rooms in the same manner.  However, they overlooked the closet, in which the fatal secret was concealed; the door was covered with tapestry, the same as the room, and united so well that it seemed but one piece.  Wenlock tauntingly desired Father Oswald to introduce them to the ghost.  The father, in reply, asked them where they should find Edmund.  “Do you think,” said he, that he lies hid in my pocket, or in Joseph’s?”