dors, as
is ever the way of these wittol creatures when they are not heeded. He
was 'ere in a rare motley of his own choosing, with which he thinks to
raise a laugh, a moment ago. Ye see him not--not 'avin' the gift that
belongs by right to my dread office. 'Tis a weird privilege I have--and
may not be imparted to others--save"--

"Save what, good man steward? Prithee, speak?" said Marian earnestly.

"'Tis ever a shillin' extra."

There was no response. A few of the more bashful ghosts thrust their
hands in their pockets and looked awkwardly another way. The Barbarian
felt a momentary relief followed by a slight pang of mortified vanity.
He was a little afraid of them. The price was an extortion, certainly,
but surely he was worth the extra shilling!

"He has brought but little braveries of attire into the Castle,"
continued the Cicerone, "but I 'ave something 'ere which was found on
the top of his portmanteau. I wot ye know not the use of this." To the
Barbarian's intense indignation, the Cicerone produced, from under his,
his (the Barbarian's) own opera hat. "Marry, what should be this? Read
me this riddle! To it--and unyoke!"

A dozen vacant guesses were made as the showman held it aloft. Then
with a conjuror's gesture he suddenly placed his thumbs within the rim,
released the spring and extended the hat. The assembly laughed again
silently as before.

"'Tis a hat," said the Cicerone, with a superior air.

"Nay," said Maudlin, "give it here." She took it curiously, examined
it, and then with a sudden coquettish movement lifted it towards her own
coifed head, as if to try it on. The Cicerone suddenly sprang forward
with a despairing gesture to prevent her. And here the Barbarian was
conscious of a more startling revelation. How and why he could not tell,
but he KNEW that the putting on of that article of his own dress would
affect the young girl as the assumption of the steel cap and corselet
had evidently affected him, and that he would instantly become as
visible to her as she and her companions had been to him. He attempted
to rise, but was too late; she had evaded the Cicerone by ducking, and,
facing in the direction of the Barbarian, clapped the hat on her head.
He saw the swift light of consciousness, of astonishment, of sudden fear
spring into her eyes! She shrieked, he started, struggled, and awoke!

But what was this! He was alone in the moonlit gallery, certainly; the
ghastly figures in their outlan