ofthe misty sort of thing which had risen out of the ground at his feet,had almost knocked him over, and had then vanished into the groundagain.
"And you weren't afraid?" said Peggy, her hand resting on thewriting-table beside which she stood, her admiring gaze on Robert'sashen face. "But that's splendid. I wish I were as brave as you. If Ihad been nearly knocked down by a misty sort of thing I should never beable to pass the spot again. Yet you'll go back presently, and won'tmind in the least. That's real courage."
Robert looked uncomfortable. He wished she had not reminded him of thereturn journey. He felt far from happy when he thought of it; far fromconfident that he dared pass the spot again. He had it in his mind toinvite the sympathetic parlourmaid to accompany him.
"Are you quite sure it was a ghost?" Peggy asked suddenly. "I don'tsee how a misty sort of thing could knock anyone down. Wasn't it,perhaps, a dog?"
Robert felt offended, and showed it.
"I reckon I knows a dog when I sees one," he replied with dignity, "an'I reckon I knows a ghost. Hannah always allows she seen the ghost inthe elm avenue, and it was in the avenue as I seed it. Big, it was--bigas a elephant, and misty like. There was two of 'em."
"Two?" said Peggy, with a questioning intonation. "That's strange,Robert, because there are supposed to be two ghosts--a lady and a dog.Are you quite sure there wasn't a dog, after all?"
"There mid 'a' been a dog," Robert conceded reluctantly. "But it warn'tlike a human dog, nohow. Its eyes was like flames, an' it didn' seem to'ave any legs, seemed to move wi'out touching of the ground. Why notcome an' see for yourself?" he suggested cunningly, "if you don'tbelieve me. I'll take care of 'ee."
Peggy looked thoughtfully at the trembling sexton and appeared todeliberate. It was plain to her that Robert was badly shaken, that hisnerve was not equal to the strain of making the return journey alone.She was shrewd enough to penetrate his design in suggesting that sheshould accompany him, and being of a naturally kindly disposition shefell in with the idea, the more readily because, since reading the note,she was anxious to meet Robert's ghost, and secure it.
"I don't disbelieve you," she returned. "But I should like to see formyself. I should never feel afraid with you."
So subtle was this flattery and so seemingly sincere, that Robertunconsciously assumed the courageous bearing expected of him; and, whenMiss Annersley led him out through a side door into the grounds, he drewhimself up and expanded his chest, and bade her keep close to him and hewould see she came to no harm. Peggy laughed softly as she drew nearerto him, and the contact of the tall slender figure afforded Robert thatcomfortable sense of human companionship which helps to minimise theunknown terrors of the dark, even a darkness peopled with mistyapparitions. He began to believe quite firmly in his intrepidity.
At the entrance to the avenue they encountered Mr Chadwick; and for amoment it seemed as though Robert's vaunted courage would desert him, asDiogenes bounded forward out of the gloom and sprang excitedly uponPeggy, greeting her with an effusiveness which, with her uncle lookingon, Peggy found secretly embarrassing.
"Is this your ghost?" she asked, glancing up at Robert, while sheattempted to restrain the dog, which, in the first moments of joyfulrecognition, was an impossibility. "I begin to believe we are about tosolve the mystery."
Robert drew his squat figure up to its full height, which wasinsignificant enough, and eyed her with contemptuous disapproval.
"Be that hanimal as big as a elephant?" he asked. "Be 'e misty like?Would you say, now, that 'e could move wi'out walking, or that 'e shotflames from his eyes? Would you, now?"
"No," Peggy answered. "I don't think he tallies with that description."
"Then 'ow can thicky be wot I seed?"
"True," she mused. "Plainly it wasn't Diogenes. We'll walk on, Ithink, and look for your ghost."
Peggy was anxious to walk on. Mr Chadwick was advancing towards themand she was not prepared just then for an encounter. She waved a handto him.
"I am going to the gate with Robert," she called to him, "to look forspooks. You can come to meet me, to see that I am not carried away on abroomstick."
Robert did not approve of the levity of her manner. He felt, indeed, soresentful as he hurried along the avenue at her side, with Diogenes inattendance, that he was doubly relieved when they reached the lodgegates without any further supernatural visitation, the absence of whichhe attributed, he informed her, to the presence of the dog. But thetransfer of half a crown from Peggy's slim hand to Robert's horny palmsoftened his resentment sufficiently to allow him to wish her a friendlygood-night, and to further express the hope that "nothing dreadful" mether on the way back.
Nothing more dreadful than Mr Chadwick awaited her in the elm avenue;but Peggy at the moment would almost as soon have encountered a ghost asher uncle; a ghost, at least, would not have asked awkward questions.
"What did Robert want?" Mr Chadwick inquired.
"He came with a message--for me."
"What about?"
"A private message," Peggy replied.
"Oh?" he said. He threw away his cigar and linked an arm withinPeggy's. "I thought he might have come to fetch Musgrave's dog. Thatanimal seems pretty much at home here."
"Y-es," Peggy returned dubiously.
"I wonder if Musgrave would be inclined to sell him. I've half a mindto ask him."
"Oh, please don't do that!" Peggy said quickly.
"Why not?"
"I think--he wouldn't like it. He is so fond of the dog."
Will Chadwick laughed, and since his niece did not express any curiosityas to the cause of his amusement, he did not explain it. But hewondered why, when they changed the colour of Diogenes' coat, they hadnot taken the precaution to buy him a new collar. He had beeninterested that evening in inspecting the collar and reading his ownname and address inscribed thereon.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
When Mr Musgrave entered the yard on the following morning, from forceof habit rather than in the expectation of finding Diogenes there, itwas to discover Diogenes in his kennel, for all the world as though hehad never absented himself in the interval.
Diogenes' welcome of Mr Musgrave was almost as effusive as his greetingof Peggy on the previous evening; he was beginning to realise hisposition as a dog with two homes and a divided allegiance. Doubtlesswere he received back at the Hall he would on occasion find his way toMr Musgrave's home as a matter of course. There were many things inMr Musgrave's home that Diogenes approved of. He approved of Martha'sattentions in the matter of table delicacies, and he appreciated thethick skin rug before the fire in Mr Musgrave's drawing-room; but thekennel and the chain were indignities against which he felt constrainedto protest.
Mr Musgrave unfastened the chain and took Diogenes for his walk, anattention which Diogenes did not merit, but Mr Musgrave felt soridiculously pleased to see him again that he forgave the overnightdefection, as he had forgiven the smashing of his dinner-service; hesimply ignored it.
In view of this magnanimous treatment it was distinctly ungracious ofDiogenes to repeat his truant performance within a fortnight of hisprevious escapade; yet repeat it he did, as soon as by his docilebehaviour he had allayed Mr Musgrave's doubts of him so far as to leadto a decrease of vigilance, and a greater laxity in the matter of opendoors.
Diogenes broke bounds again at about the same hour on a balmy evening inJune; and Mr Musgrave hastened as before to the vicarage with a secondnote to be entrusted to the handy sexton. But here a check awaited him.Robert, on being appealed to by the vicar, stoutly refused to go to theHall on any business after dusk.
"Not if you was to offer me a hund'ed pounds, sir," he affirmedearnestly. "I wouldn' go up thicky avenue in the dimpsy again, not fora thousand--no, I wouldn'. Leave it bide till the mornin' an' I'll takeit."
Mr Errol returned to John Musgrave with the tale of his non-success.
"I daresay I could find someone else to take it, John," he said,
with awhimsical smile. "But my reputation is likely to suffer, unless yousanction the note being delivered at the door, instead of into MissAnnersley's own hand. That stipulation is highly compromising."
Mr Musgrave flushed.
"I am afraid I didn't think of that," he said, and took the note fromthe vicar and tore it in half. "I am glad you mentioned it. It is notfair, either, to Miss Annersley."
"What is to be done now?" the vicar said.
"I will," returned Mr Musgrave