ch 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 few last
trees was the place where the ghost had appeared. There beyond lay the
white road, the churchyard corner, and the tall grey tomb-stone
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;
and lifting his own hand he pointed towards the tomb-stone, and gave a
shout. As he pointed, the ghost turned round, and then--rising from
behind the tomb-stone, and gliding slowly to the edge of the wall,
which separated the churchyard from the lower level of the road--there
appeared a sight so awful, that Bill's shout merged into a prolonged
scream of terror.

Truly Master Arthur's anticipations of a "scenic effect" were amply
realized. The walls and buttresses of the old Church stood out dark