er nightfall;
unless--Lord save us!--he be the deaul himsel.'"

"Whar is he noo?" asked the landlord, who was growing uncomfortable.

"He spang'd up the back stair to his room. I wonder you didn't hear
him trampin' like a wild horse; and he clapt his door that the house
shook again--but Lord knows whar he is noo. Let us gang awa's up to
the Vicar's, and gan _him_ come down, and talk wi' him."

"Hoity toity, man--you're too easy scared," said the landlord, pale
enough by this time. "'Twould be a fine thing, truly, to send abroad
that the house was haunted by the deaul himsel'! Why, 'twould be the
ruin o' the George. You're sure ye locked the door on the corpse?"

"Aye, sir--sartain."

"Come wi' me, Tom--we'll gi' a last look round the yard."

So, side by side, with many a jealous look right and left, and over
their shoulders, they went in silence. On entering the old-fashioned
quadrangle, surrounded by stables and other offices--built in the
antique cagework fashion--they stopped for a while under the shadow of
the inn gable, and looked round the yard, and listened. All was
silent--nothing stirring.

The stable lantern was lighted; and with it in his hand Tony Turnbull,
holding Tom Scales by the shoulder, advanced. He hauled Tom after him
for a step or two; then stood still and shoved him before him for a
step or two more; and thus cautiously--as a pair of skirmishers under
fire--they approached the coach-house door.

"There, ye see--all safe," whispered Tom, pointing to the lock, which
hung--distinct in the moonlight--in its place. "Cum back, I say!"

"Cum on, say I!" retorted the landlord valorously. "It would never do
to allow any tricks to be played with the chap in there"--he pointed
to the coachhouse door.

"The coroner here in the morning, and never a corpse to sit on!" He
unlocked the padlock with these words, having handed the lantern to
Tom. "Here, keck in, Tom," he continued; "ye hev the lantern--and see
if all's as ye left it."

"Not me--na, not for the George and a' that's in it!" said Tom, with a
shudder, sternly, as he took a step backward.

"What the--what are ye afraid on? Gi' me the lantern--it is all one:
_I_ will."

And cautiously, little by little, he opened the door; and, holding the
lantern over his head in the narrow slit, he peeped in--frowning and
pale--with one eye, as if he expected something to fly in his face. He
closed the door without speaking, and locked it again.

"As s