The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 363: what you’re looking at

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354 never believed in ghosts till now—but this adven- ture has altogether staggered me.” And the ex-traveller began to pace the room in an agitated manner. “What was it you saw, ma'am?” inguired the gardener, now appealing to Mrs. Page for an ex- planation. : “Oh! don’t talk to me about it,” exclaimed Julia, trembling violently from head to foot: “it makes me shudder merely to think of it.” “Dearey me! dearey me {” moaned Mrs. Bryan, ~ocking herself to and fro upon her seat: “ what ean it all mean? Leastways, what is it all about? If it was only a chimbley falling, we should have heerd it—or a cat breaking a winder ——” “No—it could not have been imagination !” cried Page, stopping suddenly short alike in his agitated walk and his bewildered reflections. “But let us put the matter to the test. Julia, my dear, what was it you thought you saw ?” “Ramsey, who was hanged,” replied the young woman, casting around looks of unspeakable terror. “Exactly what I fancied!” exclaimed the ex- traveller, feeling that his flesh was creeping upon his bones and his blood running chill in his veins. “Dearey me! dearey me!” moaned Mrs. Bryan more piteously than ever. ; “The ghost of Ramsey as was hanged!” mur- mured the old gardener, with a visible shudder. “It was indeed!” said Page, in a musing tone: “and yet this is almost incredible. I am not superstitious, as I just now observed: but what ean I think? Either that the fellow has come to | life again—or that his spirit haunts the place which is so closely connected with his crimes.” And again did Mr, Page walk to and fro with hervous agitation visible in his manner and depicted upon his countenance. “You didn’t bring the papers away with you ?” paid Julia. ‘ Those papers—you know which I mean,” she added significantly. “No—I dropped them in the confusion of the moment,” answered Page. “But they are worth looking after—anod, by Jove! I'll venture back into the library, ghost or no ghost! Will anybody come with me ?” “ Dearey me, not I!” ejaculated Mrs, Bryan: and looking towards her husband, she said, “Can't you go with the gen’leman instead of sitting there like an old fool” “ Yes—come with me,” said Page: then, tossing down a guinea upon the table, he observed. “There! Oe that inspire you with courage, my good fel- ow The gardener picked up the money—put it into his waistcoat pocket—and, rising slowly from his - geat, intimated his readiness to follow the ex- traveller to tne library. Mrs. Page sate fast in her chair ; and her husband did not think it worth while to solicit her company : Sut taking a candle from the table, he led the way wong the passage, old Bryan keeping close to his neels. Ono reaching the door whence he and his wife nad so precipitately escaped from the library, Mr. Page perceived that it was wide open just as it had been left; and, summoning all his courage to his aid, he advanced to the threshold. The hurried end indeed fearful glance which he threw into the Se are en OSD, $9 A EE DTI OSLO THE MYSTERIES. apartment, showed him ina moment that no one was there: and, considerably relieved, he entered with a comparatively firm step, the old gardener still following and gathering confidence from the fact that nothing terrible was to be seen. Advancing towards the desk, Mr. Page looked anxiously about for the papers which he had dis. covered in the secret recess, and which contained the “ correspondence between Miss Hannah Light- foot and Lady Stamford :” but the packet was no- where to be found. Vainly did he search amongst the documents scattered about—vainly did he go upon all fours and examine underneath the farni- ture: that particular collection of letters had dis- appeared ! “Well, this <* most extraordinary!” muttered the bewildered Page to himself: “I am not so foolish as to imagine that a ghost would walk off with a parcel of papers! No—no—it was not a spirit—it was a living man—but whether Ramsey. himself, resuscitated by some wondrous and unac- countable means, or a person as like him as two peas, it is impossible to determine. Perdition seize it!—the papers which would have perhaps made my fortune, have been snatched from my grasp !” But scarcely had the ex-traveller reached this point in his musings, when he was suddenly inter- rupted by a loud knocking and ringing at the front door of the mansion. ‘Who can that be ?” exclaimed the old gardener. “Sir Richard perhaps——” “No such thing!” cried Page. “The baronet is at Windsor, and will never set foot in this house again, I am very certain, after all that has happened. But come along—!I will go with you to see who it ‘s. for remember,” he added with pompous self-suffi- clency, “J represent Sir Richard Stamford during my brief sojourn beneath this roof.” “Just as you like, sir,” returned Bryan, who had no ambition to dispute the honour with the important, conceited, and bustling Mr. Page. They accordingly hurried to the front door; and the moment it was opened, a lady and gentleman en- tered the hall without any ceremony. Mr. Page's eyes first sought the countenance of the former—for he was a great admirer of the fair sex; and the dazzling beacty which met his view completely rivetted his gaze for several moments. But on turn- ing his 1ooks upon the features of the gentleman to whose arm she clung, an ejaculation of mingled sure prise and confusion ‘burst from the lips of the ex- bagman: for he instantaneously recognised the Prince of Wales! Meantime the gardener, fancying that he beheld his master Sir Richard Stamford, was making sundry awkward bows and pulling his forelock in token of respect: while the Prince himself, taking no notice whatsoever of the old man, kept his eyes fixed on Mr. Page, racking his memory to discover who he was. For the ex-traveller's features were quite fa- miliartohis Royal Highness, who could not however for the life of him recollect at the moment where he had seen that thin, sallow, angular face before. It was quite clear, however, to the Prince that he was recognised by this individual: and, not relishing the manner in which he was now being stared at, he said somewhat sharply, “ What is your name sir _—who are you f” : “ My name is Page, at your Royal Ilighneas’s sere COMIC OOO (C So GOIN