N looks round to L. nervously._)

That night soon after he had gone to bed, a couple of Bow Street
runners, the predecessors of our present detective force turned up here.
They had followed him from London, but had lost scent a bit, so didn't
arrive till late. A word to the landlord, whose description of the
stranger who had retired to rest, pointed to the fact that he was the
man they were after, of course enlisted his aid and that of the male
servants and stable hands. The officers crept quietly up to Jerry's
bedroom and tried the door, it wouldn't budge. It was of heavy oak and
bolted from within.

(_OMNES lean forward, showing interest._)

Leaving his comrade and a couple of grooms to guard the bedroom door,
the other officer went into the yard, and, procuring a short ladder, by
this means reached the window of the room in which Jerry was sleeping.
The Inn servants and stable hands saw him get on to the sill and try to
open the window. Suddenly there was a crash of glass, and with a cry, he
fell in a heap on to the stones at their feet. Then in the moonlight,
they saw the face of the highwayman peering over the sill.

(_OMNES move uneasily._)

They sent for the blacksmith, and with his sledge-hammer he battered in
the strong oak panels, and the first thing that met their eyes was the
body of Jerry Bundler dangling from the top of the four-post bed by his
own handkerchief.

(_OMNES sit back, draw their breath, and are generally uneasy. Slight
pause._)

SOMERS. I say, which bedroom was it? (_Earnestly_).

PENFOLD. That I can't tell you, but the story goes that Jerry still
haunts this house, and my father used to declare positively that the
last time he slept here, the ghost of Jerry Bundler lowered itself from
the top of his four-post bed and tried to strangle him.

BELDON (_jumps up, gets behind his chair, twists chair round;
nervously_). O, I say, that'll do. I wish you'd thought to ask your
father which bedroom it was.

PENFOLD. What for?

BELDON. Well, I should take jolly good care not to sleep in it, that's
all. (_Goes to back._)

(_PENFOLD rising, goes to fire, and knocks out his pipe, Leek gets by
arm-chair._)

PENFOLD. There's nothing to fear. I don't believe for a moment that
ghosts could really hurt one. (_GEORGE lights candle at table._) In
fact, my father used to say that it was only the unpleasantness of the
thing that upset him, and that, for all practical purposes, Jerry's
fingers migh