The noise ceased suddenly, leaving us with no hint of
its whereabouts.
I went directly to the rear of the house and found
Bates putting the dishes away in the pantry.
"Where have you been?" I demanded.
"Here, sir; I have been clearing up the dinner things,
Mr. Glenarm. Is there anything the matter, sir?"
"Nothing."
I joined the others in the library.
"Why didn't you tell me this feudal imitation was
haunted?" asked Larry, in a grieved tone. "All it needed
was a cheerful ghost, and now I believe it lacks absolutely
nothing. I'm increasingly glad I came. How
often does it walk?"
"It's not on a schedule. Just now it's the wind in
the tower probably; the wind plays queer pranks up
there sometimes."
"You'll have to do better than that, Glenarm," said
Stoddard. "It's as still outside as a country graveyard."
"Only the slaugh sidhe, the people of the faery hills,
the cheerfulest ghosts in the world," said Larry. "You
literal Saxons can't grasp the idea, of course."
But there was substance enough in our dangers without
pursuing shadows. Certain things were planned
that night. We determined to exercise every precaution
to prevent a surprise from without, and we resolved
upon a new and systematic sounding of walls and floors,
taking our clue from the efforts made by Morgan and
his ally to find hiding-places by this process. Pickering
would undoubtedly arrive shortly, and we wished to
anticipate his movements as far as possible.
We resolved, too, upon a day patrol of the grounds
and a night guard. The suggestion came, I believe,
from Stoddard, whose interest in my affairs was only
equaled by the fertility of his suggestions. One of us
should remain abroad at night, ready to sound the alarm
in case of attack. Bates should take his turn with the
rest-Stoddard insisted on it.
Within two days we were, as Larry expressed it, on a
war footing. We added a couple of shot-guns and several
revolvers to my own arsenal, and piled the library
table with cartridge boxes. Bates, acting as quarter-master,
brought a couple of wagon-loads of provisions.
Stoddard assembled a remarkable collection of heavy
sticks; he had more confidence in them, he said, than in
gunpowder, and, moreover, he explained, a priest might
not with propriety hear arms.
It was a cheerful company of conspirators that now
gathered around the big hearth. Larry, always restless,
preferred to stand at one side, an elbow on the
mantel-shelf, pipe in mouth; and Stoddard sought the
biggest chair,-and filled it. He and Larry understood
each other at once, and Larry's stories, ranging in subject
from undergraduate experiences at Dublin to adventures
in Africa and always including endless conflicts
with the Irish constabulary, delighted the big boyish
clergyman.
Often, at some one's suggestion of a new idea, we ran
off to explore the house again in search of the key to the
Glenarm riddle, and always we came back to the library
with that riddle still unsolved.