red with
heavy furniture, but they got in at last, and the first thing that met
their eyes was the body of Jerry dangling from the top of the bed by his
own handkerchief."

"Which bedroom was it?" asked two or three voices together.

The narrator shook his head. "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 bed and tried to strangle him."

"That'll do," said an uneasy voice. "I wish you'd thought to ask your
father which bedroom it was."

"What for?" inquired the old gentleman.

"Well, I should take care not to sleep in it, that's all," said the
voice, shortly.

"There's nothing to fear," said the other. "I don't believe for a moment
that ghosts could really-hurt one. In fact my father used to confess
that it was only the unpleasantness of the thing that upset him, and
that for all practical purposes Jerry's fingers might have been made of
cottonwool for all the harm they could do."

"That's all very fine," said the last speaker again; "a ghost story is
a ghost story, sir; but when a gentleman tells a tale of a ghost in the
house in which one is going to sleep, I call it most ungentlemanly!"

"Pooh! nonsense!" said the old gentleman, rising; "ghosts can't hurt
you. For my own part, I should rather like to see one. Good night,
gentlemen."

"Good night," said the others. "And I only hope Jerry'll pay you a
visit," added the nervous man as the door closed.

"Bring some more whisky, George," said a stout commercial; "I want
keeping up when the talk turns this way."

"Shall I light the gas, Mr. Malcolm?" said George.

"No; the fire's very comfortable," said the traveller. "Now, gentlemen,
any of you know any more?"

"I think we've had enough," said another man; "we shall be thinking we
see spirits next, and we're not all like the old gentleman who's just
gone."

"Old humbug!" said Hirst. "I should like to put him to the test. Suppose
I dress up as Jerry Bundler and go and give him a chance of displaying
his courage?"

"Bravo!" said Malcolm, huskily, drowning one or two faint "Noes." "Just
for the joke, gentlemen."

"No, no! Drop it, Hirst," said another man.

"Only for the joke," said Hirst, somewhat eagerly. "I've got some things
upstairs in which I am going to play in the _Rivals_--knee-breeches,
buckles, and all that sort of thing. I