The Baron, therefore, argued the present point no longer.

“It is jost a mere ceremony,” he said.  “Ach, vell, nozing vill happen.  Zis ghost—­vat is his name?”

“It is known as the Wraith of the Tulliwuddles.  The heir must interview it within a week of coming to the Castle.”

“Vere most I see him?”

“In the armory, at midnight.  You bring one friend, one candle, and wear a bonnet with one eagle’s feather in it.  You enter at eleven and wait for an hour—­and, by the way, neither of you must speak above a whisper.”

“Pooh!  Jost hombog!” said the Baron valiantly.  “I do not fear soch trash.”

“When the Wraith appears——­”

“My goot Bonker, he vill not gom!”

“Supposing he does come—­and mind you, strange things happen in these old buildings, particularly in the Highlands, and after dinner; if he comes, Baron, you must ask him three questions.”

The Baron laughed scornfully.

“If I see a ghost I vill ask him many interesting questions—­if he does feel cold, and sochlike, eh?  Ha, ha!”

With an imperturbable gravity that was not without its effect upon the other, however gaily he might talk, Bunker continued

“The three questions are:  first, ‘What art thou?’ second, ‘Why comest thou here, O spirit?’ third, ‘What instructions desirest thou to give me?’ Strictly speaking, they ought to be asked in Gaelic, but exceptions have been made on former occasions, and Mac-Dui—­who pipes, by the way, in the anteroom—­assures me that English will satisfy the Wraith in your case.”

The Baron sniffed and laughed, and twirled up the ends of his mustaches till they presented a particularly desperate appearance.  Yet there was a faint intonation of anxiety in his voice as he inquired—­

“You vill gom as my friend, of course?”

“I?  Quite out of the question, I am sorry to say.  To bring a foreigner (as I am supposed to be) would rouse the clan to rebellion.  No, Baron, you have a chance of paying a graceful compliment to your host which you must not lose.  Ask Mr. Gallosh to share your vigil.”

“Gallosh—­he vould not be moch good sopposing—­ Ach, but nozing vill happen!  I vill ask him.”

The pride of Mr. Gallosh on being selected as his lordship’s friend on this historic occasion was pleasant to witness.

“It’s just a bit of fiddle-de-dee,” he informed his delighted family.  “Duncan Gallosh to be looking for bogles is pretty ridiculous—­but oh, I can’t refuse to disoblige his lordship.”

“I should think not, when he’s done you the honor to invite you out of all his friends!” said Mrs. Gallosh warmly.  “Eva! do you hear the compliment that’s been paid your papa?”

Eva, their fair eldest daughter, came into the room at a run.  She had indeed heard (since the news was on every tongue), and impetuously she flung her arms about her father’s neck.