“Vat instroction do you give me?” he managed to utter.

In the gravest accents the Wraith chanted—­

“Hang ever kilt above the knee,
With Usquebaugh be not too free,
When toasts and sic’like games be mooted
See that your dram be well diluted;
And oh, if you’d escape from Hades,
Lord Tulliwuddle, ’ware the ladies!”

The spirit vanished as magically as he had appeared, and with this solemn warning ringing in his ears, the Baron found himself in inky darkness again.  This time he did not hesitate to grope madly for the door, but hardly had he reached it, when, with a fresh sensation of horror, he stumbled upon a writhing form that seemed to be pawing the panels.  He was, fortunately; as quickly reassured by hearing the voice of Mr. Gallosh exclaim in terrified accents—­

“I canna find the haundle!  Oh, Gosh, where’s the haundle?”

Being the less frenzied of the two, the Baron did succeed in finding the handle, and with a gasp of relief burst into the lighted anteroom.  The piper had already departed, and evidently in haste, since he had left some portion of a bottle of whisky unfinished.  This fortunate circumstance enabled them to recover something of their color, though, even when he felt his blood warming again, Mr. Gallosh could scarcely speak coherently of his terrible ordeal.

“What an awfu’ night! what an awfu’ night!” he murmured.  “Oh, my lord, let’s get out of this!”

He was making for the door when the Baron seized his arm.

“Vait!” he cried.  “Ze danger is past!  Ach, vas I not brave?  Did you not hear me speak to him?  You can bear vitness how brave I vas, eh?”

“I’ll not swear I heard just exactly what passed, my lord.  Man, I’ll own I was awful feared!”

“Tuts! tuts!” said the Baron kindly.  “Ve vill say nozing about zat.  You stood vell by me, I shall say.  And you vill tell zem I did speak mit courage to ze ghost.”

“I will that!” said Mr. Gallosh.

By the time they reached the drawing-room he had so far recovered his equanimity as to prove a very creditable witness, and between them they gave such an account of their adventure as satisfied even the excited expectations of their friends; though the Baron thought it both prudent and more becoming his dignity to leave considerable mystery attaching to the precise revelations of his ancestral spirit.

“Bot vere is Bonker?” he asked, suddenly noticing the absence of his friend.

A moment later the Count entered and listened with the greatest interest to a second (and even more graphic) account of the adventure.  More intimate particulars still were confided to him when they had retired to their own room, and he appeared as surprised and impressed as any wraith-seer could desire.  As they parted for the night, the Baron started and sniffed at him.

“Vat a strange smell you have!” he exclaimed.