ietor of the
spirits of Byron, Kirke White, Grimaldi, Tom Cribb, and Inigo Jones.
That's about the figure!"

"Nothing romantic enough there," I objected. "Good heavens! Fancy a
ghost with a black eye and a handkerchief tied round its waist, or
turning somersaults, and saying, 'How are you to-morrow?'" The very
idea made me so warm that I emptied my glass and filled it again.

"Here is another," said my companion, "'Christopher McCarthy; bi-weekly
seances--attended by all the eminent spirits of ancient and modern
times. Nativities--charms--abracadabras, messages from the dead.' He
might be able to help us. However, I shall have a hunt round myself
to-morrow, and see some of these fellows. I know their haunts, and
it's odd if I can't pick up something cheap. So there's an end of
business," he concluded, hurling the ledger into the corner; "and now
we'll have something to drink."

We had several things to drink--so many that my inventive faculties
were dulled next morning, and I had some little difficulty in
explaining to Mrs. D'Odd why it was that I hung my boots and spectacles
upon a peg along with my other garments before retiring to rest. The
new hopes excited by the confident manner in which my agent had
undertaken the commission caused me to rise superior to alcoholic
reaction, and I paced about the rambling corridors and old-fashioned
rooms picturing to myself the appearance of my expected acquisition,
and deciding what part of the building would harmonize best with its
presence. After much consideration, I pitched upon the banqueting hall
as being, on the whole, most suitable for its reception. It was a long
low room, hung round with valuable tapestry and interesting relics of
the old family to whom it had belonged. Coats of mail and implements
of war glimmered fitfully as the light of the fire played over them,
and the wind crept under the door, moving the hangings to and fro with
a ghastly rustling. At one end there was the raised dais, on which in
ancient times the host and his guests used to spread their table, while
a descent of a couple of steps led to the lower part of the hall, where
the vassals and retainers held wassail. The floor was uncovered by any
sort of carpet, but a layer of rushes had been scattered over it by my
direction. In the whole room there was nothing to remind one of the
nineteenth century; except, indeed, my own solid silver plate, stamped
with the resuscitated family a