and
kept exploding in smothered chuckles of laughter.

"Cold work for him, if he's been waiting long!" whispered one.

"Don't know. His head's under cover remember!" said the other: and they
laughed.

"Bet you sixpence he's been smearing his hand with brimstone for the
last half hour."

"Don't smell him yet, though."

"He'll be a patent aphis-destroyer in the rose-garden for months to
come."

"Sharp work for the eyelids if it gets under the sheet."

They were now close by the Yews, out of which the wind came with a
peculiar chill, as if it had been passing through a vault. Mr. Bartram
Lindsay stooped down, and whispered in Bill's ear: "Listen, my lad. We
can't go down the lane with you, for we want to see the ghost, but we
don't want the ghost to see us. Don't be frightened, but go just as
usual. And mind--when you see the white figure, point with your own arm
_towards the Church_ and scream as loud as you like. Can you do this?"

"Yes, sir," whispered Bill.

"Then off with you. We shall creep quietly on behind the trees; and you
shan't be hurt, I promise you."

Bill summoned his courage, and plunged into the shadows. What could be
the meaning of Mr. Lindsay's strange orders? Should he ever have courage
to lift his arm towards the church in the face of that awful apparition
of the murdered man? And if he did, would the unquiet spirit take the
hint, and go back into the grave, which Bill knew was at that very
corner to which he must point? Left alone, his terrors began to return;
and he listened eagerly to see if, amid the ceaseless soughing of the
wind among the long yew branches, he could hear the rustle of the young
men's footsteps as they crept behind. But he could distinguish nothing.
The hish-wishing of the thin leaves was so incessant, the wind was so
dexterous and tormenting in the tricks it played and the sounds it
produced, that the whole place seemed alive with phantom rustlings and
footsteps; and Bill felt as if Master Arthur was right, and that there
was "no limit" to the number of ghosts!

At last he could see the end of the avenue. There among the last few
trees was the place where the ghost had appeared. There beyond lay the
white road, the churchyard corner, and the tall gray tombstone
glimmering in the moonlight. A few steps more, and slowly from among the
yews came the ghost as before, and raised its long white arm. Bill
determined that, if he died for it, he would do as he had been told;