gasping for breath, he managed to make himself audible, even to those who stood without the door.
"You come in the nick of time, nephew," he said, "for I have not overmuch of the breath of life left in me, and there are a few things I must tell you. My entire estate, personal and real—land, moneys, everything—goes to you at my death. I have but one request to make of you, and that is regarding the disposition of my body. In the great storeroom at the end of the keep is a strong-box which you will open, and in which you will find a leaden casket. Seal my remains in this casket and place it, without service or ceremony, in the tomb which I have caused to be built beside the chapel tower."
Scarcely had he spoken these words when the chapel bell began solemnly to toll the hour of eleven, and the piercing shriek of a woman in dreadful anguish rent the air. At this instant the old laird fell back dead and the young laird gripped his pistols and backed toward the door, for the cry had come from inside the room and it was plain to be seen there was no woman present.
There followed the muffled sounds of sobbing and moaning, and loud knocks and raps were heard on the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. The servants beat a hasty retreat, and Sir Eric was not slow to follow.
The next day he carried out the orders of the deceased, and, in doing so, met with a strange and unexpected adventure, for just as they were lowering the leaden casket into the tomb the lid fell shut with a loud bang and the frightened pall bearers let go their straps which were hooked to rings in the coffin.
The young laird ordered them to open the tomb and recover the straps, but when they raised the lid, both casket and straps had completely disappeared. They concluded it was the work of the devil himself, for the interior was of solid masonry without crack of a size to admit even a sword-point, and neither laird nor retainers would have more to do with Bludmanton Castle.
They left in a body that day, every living soul, and found temporary shelter in the homes of the tenants until the young laird completed his new stronghold, which he built nearer the village.
WE WERE on our fifth mug of ale when Sandy finished his story.
"And you say the castle has not been inhabited since?" asked Anderson.
"The place hasna housed ilka human being to this day," replied Sandy, "but mony's the tale of hunters and wayfarers wha, passing the castle at nicht, ha' heard fearsome sounds an' blood-curdling shrieks fit to raise the dead."
"I have a consuming curiosity to see that old ruin," said Anderson.
"Let's go out and look it over," I suggested.
Anderson set down his mug with a crash.
"I have it!" he exclaimed. "We'll go out there and camp for the night! It will be a rare adventure. Think of the sport of camping next to a ruined castle full of spooks! Maybe we can catch sight of one, or perhaps hear it wail."
"My cart is outside," said Sandy, warmed by the ale he had consumed. "I'll take ye ower an' ye maun view the ruins before sundown, but heed the advice of auld Sandy Magruder an' pitch your tent elsewhere. For me, I wadna spend the nicht in the lee o' Bludmanton Castle for a' the siller in the banks of Edinburgh."
We shouldered our packs and followed the old fellow outside to where a lean, rangy, mangy horse stood, hitched to a dilapidated jaunting-cart. The vehicle creaked alarmingly as we clambered aboard, and away we went, rumbling and rattling along the dusty road.
We followed the road for perhaps four miles, then turned into a narrow lane which led through a dense, shady wood. As we bumped round a bend in the narrow lane an imposing structure came into view—imposing despite its crumbling towers and skeleton turrets, its broken machicolations, and its age-shattered merlons and crenels. It was built partly on a sloping hillside and partly on the level floor of the valley, and our winding road took us directly past the postern gate, against which a rotting ladder stood, to a spot on the hillside directly opposite the drawbridge, whence bubbled a spring of clear, sparkling water.
"A weel," said Sandy, leaping from the cart with remarkable agility for his years, "as your General Pershing said at the tomb of LaFayette, 'We are here'."
"An ideal camping spot," exclaimed Anderson, and simultaneously we leaped to the ground, asking Sandy to show us about the castle and point out the different places he had mentioned in his story, but he flatly refused.
"I wouldna venture in that ill-faur'd, ghaistly place for a' the grund i' the parish, an' if six purpose be in your minds, I rede you beware, for though ye maun ha' been braw sodgers an' fought the enemy to a standstill, bear in mind that man has enemies that canna be overcome wi' bullets an' bayonets."
"If you refer to His Satanic Majesty and his imps," said Anderson, smiling, "I, for one, am quite willing to take a chance, having fought with the Devil Dogs and alongside the Ladies From Hell."
"Yes, let Beelzebub come," I said, "and bring a few of his foul fiends with him. As for ghosts, I am curious to hear one shriek. Certainly there could be nothing more interesting than a creature without lungs or vocal chords that can shriek."
Sandy turned away sorrowfully. "Puir misguided lads, ye ken not that of which ye speak so lightly. I ha' nae doot ye'll be made to pay heavily for every word, and as I see you are na disposed to return wi' me, I must be gangin, for the nicht will soon fall."
Upon his firm refusal to accept any pay for his services we thanked him heartily and bade him a cheery good-by as he rumbled off down the winding lane.
I began to unroll the tent, but Anderson stayed my hand.
"Wait, Art," he said, "I have an idea."
I looked up inquiringly.
"There is no need of our putting up the tent tonight," he went on.
"So that's your idea, is it? You'll stretch your hat-band all out of shape with one of those ideas of yours, yet. For my part, I'm going to sleep under canvas. I smell rain in the air and—"
Anderson looked slightly aggrieved.
"If you'll have the goodness to hear me out and not jump so all-fired hastily at conclusions, perhaps you will change your mind. Who said anything about sleeping in the open? I was about to suggest that we sleep under a roof."
"You mean in the castle?" There was a note of something— let us call it anxiety—in my voice, that betrayed an inner repugnance at the idea of which I had not been objectively aware.
"Of course, if you're afraid—"
"Who's afraid? You big stiff, I think you're scared yourself."
He laughed. "Here we are, daring each other like a couple of schoolboys. I know perfectly well there is nothing to fear in that old castle, and so do you. It may save us a good wetting. Have you noticed that heavy bank of clouds on the northern horizon? There's a big storm coming and we're sure to get soaked out here on the hillside, tent or no tent."
"Well, anyway, let's cook our bacon and eggs before we go in," I said. "I'm so hungry my stomach thinks I went off and left it."
"Oh, come on. We can do our cooking inside. There'll be plenty of fire-
