Maybehehasforgottenwherehereallydidputit，andistryingtoremember。I’llgivehimanotherchance。"
　　TheghostappearedgratefulanddelightedatseeingJoepreparetofollowhim，andledthewayintotheattic，pointedtotheceiling，andvanished。
　　"Well，he’shititthistime，Idohope，"saidmybrother—in—law；
　　andnextdaytheysettoworktotaketheroofofftheplace。
　　Ittookthemthreedaystogettheroofthoroughlyoff，andalltheyfoundwasabird’snest；aftersecuringwhichtheycoveredupthehousewithtarpaulins，tokeepitdry。
　　Youmighthavethoughtthatwouldhavecuredthepoorfellowoflookingfortreasure。Butitdidn’t。
　　Hesaidtheremustbesomethinginitall，ortheghostwouldneverkeeponcomingasitdid；andthat，havinggonesofar，hewouldgoontotheend，andsolvethemystery，costwhatitmight。
　　Nightafternight，hewouldgetoutofhisbedandfollowthatspectraloldfraudaboutthehouse。Eachnight，theoldmanwouldindicateadifferentplace；and，oneachfollowingday，mybrother—
　　in—lawwouldproceedtobreakupthemillatthepointindicated，andlookforthetreasure。Attheendofthreeweeks，therewasnotaroominthemillfittolivein。Everywallhadbeenpulleddown，everyfloorhadbeentakenup，everyceilinghadhadaholeknockedinit。Andthen，assuddenlyastheyhadbegun，theghost’svisitsceased；andmybrother—in—lawwasleftinpeace，torebuildtheplaceathisleisure。
　　"Whatinducedtheoldimagetoplaysuchasillytrickuponafamilymanandaratepayer？"Ah！that’sjustwhatIcannottellyou。
　　Somesaidthattheghostofthewickedoldmanhaddoneittopunishmybrother—in—lawfornotbelievinginhimatfirst；whileothersheldthattheapparitionwasprobablythatofsomedeceasedlocalplumberandglazier，whowouldnaturallytakeaninterestinseeingahouseknockedaboutandspoilt。Butnobodyknewanythingforcertain。
　　INTERLUDE
　　Wehadsomemorepunch，andthenthecuratetoldusastory。
　　Icouldnotmakeheadortailofthecurate’sstory，soIcannotretailittoyou。Wenoneofuscouldmakeheadortailofthatstory。Itwasagoodstoryenough，sofarasmaterialwent。Thereseemedtobeanenormousamountofplot，andenoughincidenttohavemadeadozennovels。Ineverbeforeheardastorycontainingsomuchincident，noronedealingwithsomanyvariedcharacters。
　　Ishouldsaythateveryhumanbeingourcuratehadeverknownormet，orheardof，wasbroughtintothatstory。Thereweresimplyhundredsofthem。Everyfivesecondshewouldintroduceintothetaleacompletelyfreshcollectionofcharactersaccompaniedbyabrandnewsetofincidents。
　　Thiswasthesortofstoryitwas：—
　　"Well，then，myunclewentintothegarden，andgothisgun，but，ofcourse，itwasn’tthere，andScrogginssaidhedidn’tbelieveit。"
　　"Didn’tbelievewhat？Who’sScroggins？"
　　"Scroggins！Oh，whyhewastheotherman，youknow——itwaswife。"
　　"WHATwashiswife——what’sSHEgottodowithit？"
　　"Why，that’swhatI’mtellingyou。Itwasshethatfoundthehat。
　　She’dcomeupwithhercousintoLondon——hercousinwasmysister—
　　in—law，andtheotherniecehadmarriedamannamedEvans，andEvans，afteritwasallover，hadtakentheboxroundtoMr。
　　Jacobs’，becauseJacobs’fatherhadseentheman，whenhewasalive，andwhenhewasdead，Joseph——"
　　"Nowlookhere，neveryoumindEvansandthebox；what’sbecomeofyouruncleandthegun？"
　　"Thegun！Whatgun？"
　　"Why，thegunthatyouruncleusedtokeepinthegarden，andthatwasn’tthere。Whatdidhedowithit？Didhekillanyofthesepeoplewithit——theseJacobsesandEvansesandScrogginsesandJosephses？Because，ifso，itwasagoodandusefulwork，andweshouldenjoyhearingaboutit。"
　　"No——ohno——howcouldhe？——hehadbeenbuiltupaliveinthewall，youknow，andwhenEdwardIVspoketotheabbotaboutit，mysistersaidthatinherthenstateofhealthshecouldnotandwouldnot，asitwasendangeringthechild’slife。SotheychristeneditHoratio，afterherownson，whohadbeenkilledatWaterloobeforehewasborn，andLordNapierhimselfsaid——"
　　"Lookhere，doyouknowwhatyouaretalkingabout？"weaskedhimatthispoint。
　　Hesaid"No，"butheknewitwaseverywordofittrue，becausehisaunthadseenitherself。Whereuponwecoveredhimoverwiththetablecloth，andhewenttosleep。
　　AndthenUncletoldusastory。
　　Unclesaidhiswasarealstory。
　　THEGHOSTOFTHEBLUECHAMBER
　　（MyUncle’sStory）
　　"Idon’twanttomakeyoufellowsnervous，"beganmyuncleinapeculiarlyimpressive，nottosayblood—curdling，toneofvoice，"andifyouwouldratherthatIdidnotmentionit，Iwon’t；but，asamatteroffact，thisveryhouse，inwhichwearenowsitting，ishaunted。"
　　"Youdon’tsaythat！"exclaimedMr。Coombes。
　　"What’stheuseofyoursayingIdon’tsayitwhenIhavejustsaidit？"retortedmyunclesomewhatpettishly。"Youdotalksofoolishly。Itellyouthehouseishaunted。RegularlyonChristmasEvetheBlueChamber[theycalledtheroomnexttothenurserythe’bluechamber，’atmyuncle’s，mostofthetoiletservicebeingofthatshade]ishauntedbytheghostofasinfulman——amanwhooncekilledaChristmaswaitwithalumpofcoal。"
　　"Howdidhedoit？"askedMr。Coombes，witheageranxiousness。
　　"Wasitdifficult？"
　　"Idonotknowhowhedidit，"repliedmyuncle；"hedidnotexplaintheprocess。Thewaithadtakenupapositionjustinsidethefrontgate，andwassingingaballad。Itispresumedthat，whenheopenedhismouthforBflat，thelumpofcoalwasthrownbythesinfulmanfromoneofthewindows，andthatitwentdownthewait’sthroatandchokedhim。"
　　"Youwanttobeagoodshot，butitiscertainlyworthtrying，"
　　murmuredMr。Coombesthoughtfully。
　　"Butthatwasnothisonlycrime，alas！"addedmyuncle。"Priortothathehadkilledasolocornet—player。"
　　"No！Isthatreallyafact？"exclaimedMr。Coombes。
　　"Ofcourseit’safact，"answeredmyuncletestily；"atallevents，asmuchafactasyoucanexpecttogetinacaseofthissort。
　　"Howverycaptiousyouarethisevening。Thecircumstantialevidencewasoverwhelming。Thepoorfellow，thecornet—player，hadbeenintheneighbourhoodbarelyamonth。OldMr。Bishop，whokeptthe’JollySandBoys’atthetime，andfromwhomIhadthestory，saidhehadneverknownamorehard—workingandenergeticsolocornet—player。He，thecornet—player，onlyknewtwotunes，butMr。
　　Bishopsaidthatthemancouldnothaveplayedwithmorevigour，orformorehoursinaday，ifhehadknownforty。Thetwotuneshedidplaywere"AnnieLaurie"and"Home，SweetHome"；andasregardedhisperformanceoftheformermelody，Mr。Bishopsaidthatamerechildcouldhavetoldwhatitwasmeantfor。
　　"Thismusician——thispoor，friendlessartistusedtocomeregularlyandplayinthisstreetjustoppositefortwohourseveryevening。
　　Oneeveninghewasseen，evidentlyinresponsetoaninvitation，goingintothisveryhouse，BUTWASNEVERSEENCOMINGOUTOFIT！"
　　"Didthetownsfolktryofferinganyrewardforhisrecovery？"askedMr。Coombes。
　　"Notaha’penny，"repliedmyuncle。
　　"Anothersummer，"continuedmyuncle，"aGermanbandvisitedhere，intending——sotheyannouncedontheirarrival——tostaytilltheautumn。
　　"Ontheseconddayfromtheirarrival，thewholecompany，asfineandhealthyabodyofmenasonecouldwishtosee，wereinvitedtodinnerbythissinfulman，and，afterspendingthewholeofthenexttwenty—fourhoursinbed，leftthetownabrokenanddyspepticcrew；theparishdoctor，whohadattendedthem，givingitashisopinionthatitwasdoubtfuliftheywould，anyofthem，befittoplayanairagain。"
　　"You——youdon’tknowtherecipe，doyou？"askedMr。Coombes。
　　"UnfortunatelyIdonot，"repliedmyuncle；"butthechiefingredientwassaidtohavebeenrailwayrefreshment—roompork—pie。
　　"Iforgettheman’sothercrimes，"myunclewenton；"Iusedtoknowthemallatonetime，butmymemoryisnotwhatitwas。Idonot，however，believeIamdoinghismemoryaninjusticeinbelievingthathewasnotentirelyunconnectedwiththedeath，andsubsequentburial，ofagentlemanwhousedtoplaytheharpwithhistoes；andthatneitherwashealtogetherunresponsibleforthelonelygraveofanunknownstrangerwhohadoncevisitedtheneighbourhood，anItalianpeasantlad，aperformeruponthebarrel—
　　organ。
　　"EveryChristmasEve，"saidmyuncle，cleavingwithlowimpressivetonesthestrangeawedsilencethat，likeashadow，seemedtohaveslowlystolenintoandsettleddownupontheroom，"theghostofthissinfulmanhauntstheBlueChamber，inthisveryhouse。
　　There，frommidnightuntilcock—crow，amidwildmuffledshrieksandgroansandmockinglaughterandtheghostlysoundofhorridblows，itdoesfiercephantomfightwiththespiritsofthesolocornet—
　　playerandthemurderedwait，assistedatintervals，bytheshadesoftheGermanband；whiletheghostofthestrangledharpistplaysmadghostlymelodieswithghostlytoesontheghostofabrokenharp。
　　UnclesaidtheBlueChamberwascomparativelyuselessasasleeping—apartmentonChristmasEve。
　　"Hark！"saiduncle，raisingawarninghandtowardstheceiling，whileweheldourbreath，andlistened；"Hark！Ibelievetheyareatitnow——intheBLUECHAMBER！"
　　THEBLUECHAMBER
　　Iroseup，andsaidthatIwouldsleepintheBlueChamber。
　　BeforeItellyoumyownstory，however——thestoryofwhathappenedintheBlueChamber——Iwouldwishtoprefaceitwith—
　　APERSONALEXPLANATION
　　Ifeelagooddealofhesitationabouttellingyouthisstoryofmyown。YouseeitisnotastoryliketheotherstoriesthatIhavebeentellingyou，orratherthatTeddyBiffles，Mr。Coombes，andmyunclehavebeentellingyou：itisatruestory。ItisnotastorytoldbyapersonsittingroundafireonChristmasEve，drinkingwhiskypunch：itisarecordofeventsthatactuallyhappened。
　　Indeed，itisnota’story’atall，inthecommonlyacceptedmeaningoftheword：itisareport。Itis，Ifeel，almostoutofplaceinabookofthiskind。Itismoresuitabletoabiography，oranEnglishhistory。
　　Thereisanotherthingthatmakesitdifficultformetotellyouthisstory，andthatis，thatitisallaboutmyself。Intellingyouthisstory，Ishallhavetokeepontalkingaboutmyself；andtalkingaboutourselvesiswhatwemodern—dayauthorshaveastrongobjectiontodoing。Ifweliterarymenofthenewschoolhaveonepraiseworthyyearningmoreeverpresenttoourmindsthananotheritistheyearningnevertoappearintheslightestdegreeegotistical。
　　Imyself，soIamtold，carrythiscoyness——thisshrinkingreticenceconcerninganythingconnectedwithmyownpersonality，almosttoofar；andpeoplegrumbleatmebecauseofit。Peoplecometomeandsay—
　　"Well，now，whydon’tyoutalkaboutyourselfabit？That’swhatwewanttoreadabout。Tellussomethingaboutyourself。"
　　ButIhavealwaysreplied，"No。"ItisnotthatIdonotthinkthesubjectaninterestingone。Icannotmyselfconceiveofanytopicmorelikelytoprovefascinatingtotheworldasawhole，oratalleventstotheculturedportionofit。ButIwillnotdoit，onprinciple。Itisinartistic，anditsetsabadexampletotheyoungermen。Otherwriters（afewofthem）doit，Iknow；butI
　　willnot——notasarule。
　　Underordinarycircumstances，therefore，Ishouldnottellyouthisstoryatall。Ishouldsaytomyself，"No！Itisagoodstory，itisamoralstory，itisastrange，weird，enthrallingsortofastory；andthepublic，Iknow，wouldliketohearit；andIshouldliketotellittothem；butitisallaboutmyself——aboutwhatI
　　said，andwhatIsaw，andwhatIdid，andIcannotdoit。Myretiring，anti—egotisticalnaturewillnotpermitmetotalkinthiswayaboutmyself。"
　　Butthecircumstancessurroundingthisstoryarenotordinary，andtherearereasonspromptingme，inspiteofmymodesty，toratherwelcometheopportunityofrelatingit。
　　AsIstatedatthebeginning，therehasbeenunpleasantnessinourfamilyoverthispartyofours，and，asregardsmyselfinparticular，andmyshareintheeventsIamnowabouttosetforth，grossinjusticehasbeendoneme。
　　Asameansofreplacingmycharacterinitsproperlight——ofdispellingthecloudsofcalumnyandmisconceptionwithwhichithasbeendarkened，Ifeelthatmybestcourseistogiveasimple，dignifiednarrationoftheplainfacts，andallowtheunprejudicedtojudgeforthemselves。Mychiefobject，Icandidlyconfess，istoclearmyselffromunjustaspersion。Spurredbythismotive——andIthinkitisanhonourableandarightmotive——IfindIamenabledtoovercomemyusualrepugnancetotalkingaboutmyself，andcanthustell—
　　MYOWNSTORY
　　Assoonasmyunclehadfinishedhisstory，I，asIhavealreadytoldyou，roseupandsaidthat_I_wouldsleepintheBlueChamberthatverynight。
　　"Never！"criedmyuncle，springingup。"Youshallnotputyourselfinthisdeadlyperil。Besides，thebedisnotmade。"
　　"Nevermindthebed，"Ireplied。"Ihavelivedinfurnishedapartmentsforgentlemen，andhavebeenaccustomedtosleeponbedsthathaveneverbeenmadefromoneyear’sendtotheother。Donotthwartmeinmyresolve。Iamyoung，andhavehadaclearconsciencenowforoveramonth。Thespiritswillnotharmme。I
　　mayevendothemsomelittlegood，andinducethemtobequietandgoaway。Besides，Ishouldliketoseetheshow。"
　　Sayingwhich，Isatdownagain。（HowMr。Coombescametobeinmychair，insteadofattheothersideoftheroom，wherehehadbeenalltheevening；andwhyheneverofferedtoapologisewhenIsatrightdownontopofhim；andwhyyoungBifflesshouldhavetriedtopalmhimselfoffuponmeasmyUncleJohn，andinducedme，underthaterroneousimpression，toshakehimbythehandfornearlythreeminutes，andtellhimthatIhadalwaysregardedhimasfather，——aremattersthat，tothisday，Ihaveneverbeenabletofullyunderstand。）
　　Theytriedtodissuademefromwhattheytermedmyfoolhardyenterprise，butIremainedfirm，andclaimedmyprivilege。Iwas’theguest。’’Theguest’alwayssleepsinthehauntedchamberonChristmasEve；itishisperquisite。
　　TheysaidthatifIputitonthatfooting，theyhad，ofcourse，noanswer；andtheylightedacandleforme，andaccompaniedmeupstairsinabody。
　　WhetherelevatedbythefeelingthatIwasdoinganobleaction，oranimatedbyameregeneralconsciousnessofrectitude，isnotformetosay，butIwentupstairsthatnightwithremarkablebuoyancy。
　　ItwasasmuchasIcoulddotostopatthelandingwhenIcametoit；IfeltIwantedtogoonuptotheroof。But，withthehelpofthebanisters，Irestrainedmyambition，wishedthemallgood—
　　night，andwentinandshutthedoor。
　　Thingsbegantogowrongwithmefromtheveryfirst。Thecandletumbledoutofthecandlestickbeforemyhandwasoffthelock。Itkeptontumblingoutofthecandlestick，andeverytimeIpickedputitupandputitin，ittumbledoutagain：Ineversawsuchaslipperycandle。Igaveupattemptingtousethecandlestickatlast，andcarriedthecandleaboutinmyhand；and，eventhen，itwouldnotkeepupright。SoIgotwildandthrewitoutofwindow，andundressedandwenttobedinthedark。
　　Ididnotgotosleep，——Ididnotfeelsleepyatall，——Ilayonmyback，lookingupattheceiling，andthinkingofthings。IwishI
　　couldremembersomeoftheideasthatcametomeasIlaythere，becausetheyweresoamusing。Ilaughedatthemmyselftillthebedshook。
　　Ihadbeenlyinglikethisforhalfanhourorso，andhadforgottenallabouttheghost，when，oncasuallycastingmyeyesroundtheroom，Inoticedforthefirsttimeasingularlycontented—lookingphantom，sittingintheeasy—chairbythefire，smokingtheghostofalongclaypipe。
　　Ifanciedforthemoment，asmostpeoplewouldundersimilarcircumstances，thatImustbedreaming。Isatup，andrubbedmyeyes。
　　No！Itwasaghost，clearenough。Icouldseethebackofthechairthroughhisbody。Helookedovertowardsme，tooktheshadowypipefromhislips，andnodded。
　　ThemostsurprisingpartofthewholethingtomewasthatIdidnotfeelintheleastalarmed。Ifanything，Iwasratherpleasedtoseehim。Itwascompany。
　　Isaid，"Goodevening。It’sbeenacoldday！"
　　Hesaidhehadnotnoticedithimself，butdaredsayIwasright。
　　Weremainedsilentforafewseconds，andthen，wishingtoputitpleasantly，Isaid，"IbelieveIhavethehonourofaddressingtheghostofthegentlemanwhohadtheaccidentwiththewait？"
　　Hesmiled，andsaiditwasverygoodofmetorememberit。Onewaitwasnotmuchtoboastof，butstill，everylittlehelped。
　　Iwassomewhatstaggeredathisanswer。Ihadexpectedagroanofremorse。Theghostappeared，onthecontrary，toberatherconceitedoverthebusiness。Ithoughtthat，ashehadtakenmyreferencetothewaitsoquietly，perhapshewouldnotbeoffendedifIquestionedhimabouttheorgan—grinder。Ifeltcuriousaboutthatpoorboy。
　　"Isittrue，"Iasked，"thatyouhadahandinthedeathofthatItalianpeasantladwhocametothetownoncewithabarrel—organthatplayednothingbutScotchairs？"
　　Hequitefiredup。"Hadahandinit！"heexclaimedindignantly。
　　"Whohasdaredtopretendthatheassistedme？Imurderedtheyouthmyself。Nobodyhelpedme。AloneIdidit。ShowmethemanwhosaysIdidn’t。"
　　Icalmedhim。IassuredhimthatIhadnever，inmyownmind，doubtedthathewastherealandonlyassassin，andIwentonandaskedhimwhathehaddonewiththebodyofthecornet—playerhehadkilled。
　　Hesaid，"Towhichonemayyoubealluding？"
　　"Oh，werethereanymorethen？"Iinquired。
　　Hesmiled，andgavealittlecough。Hesaidhedidnotliketoappeartobeboasting，butthat，countingtrombones，therewereseven。
　　"Dearme！"Ireplied，"youmusthavehadquiteabusytimeofit，onewayandanother。"
　　Hesaidthatperhapsheoughtnottobetheonetosayso，butthatreally，speakingofordinarymiddle—society，hethoughttherewerefewghostswhocouldlookbackuponalifeofmoresustainedusefulness。
　　Hepuffedawayinsilenceforafewseconds，whileIsatwatchinghim。Ihadneverseenaghostsmokingapipebefore，thatIcouldremember，anditinterestedme。
　　Iaskedhimwhattobaccoheused，andhereplied，"Theghostofcutcavendish，asarule。"
　　Heexplainedthattheghostofallthetobaccothatamansmokedinlifebelongedtohimwhenhebecamedead。Hesaidhehimselfhadsmokedagooddealofcutcavendishwhenhewasalive，sothathewaswellsuppliedwiththeghostofitnow。
　　Iobservedthatitwasausefulthingtoknowthat，andImadeupmymindtosmokeasmuchtobaccoaseverIcouldbeforeIdied。
　　IthoughtImightaswellstartatonce，soIsaidIwouldjoinhiminapipe，andhesaid，"Do，oldman"；andIreachedoverandgotoutthenecessaryparaphernaliafrommycoatpocketandlitup。
　　Wegrewquitechummyafterthat，andhetoldmeallhiscrimes。Hesaidhehadlivednextdooroncetoayoungladywhowaslearningtoplaytheguitar，whileagentlemanwhopractisedonthebass—
　　viollivedopposite。Andhe，withfiendishcunning，hadintroducedthesetwounsuspectingyoungpeopletooneanother，andhadpersuadedthemtoelopewitheachotheragainsttheirparents’
　　wishes，andtaketheirmusicalinstrumentswiththem；andtheyhaddoneso，and，beforethehoneymoonwasover，SHEhadbrokenhisheadwiththebass—viol，andHEhadtriedtocramtheguitardownherthroat，andhadinjuredherforlife。
　　Myfriendsaidheusedtoluremuffin—menintothepassageandthenstuffthemwiththeirownwarestilltheyburstanddied。Hesaidhehadquietedeighteenthatway。
　　Youngmenandwomenwhorecitedlonganddrearypoemsateveningparties，andcallowyouthswhowalkedaboutthestreetslateatnight，playingconcertinas，heusedtogettogetherandpoisoninbatchesoften，soastosaveexpense；andparkoratorsandtemperancelecturersheusedtoshutupsixinasmallroomwithaglassofwaterandacollection—boxapiece，andletthemtalkeachothertodeath。
　　Itdidonegoodtolistentohim。
　　Iaskedhimwhenheexpectedtheotherghosts——theghostsofthewaitandthecornet—player，andtheGermanbandthatUncleJohnhadmentioned。Hesmiled，andsaidtheywouldnevercomeagain，anyofthem。
　　Isaid，"Why；isn’tittrue，then，thattheymeetyouhereeveryChristmasEveforarow？"
　　HerepliedthatitWAStrue。EveryChristmasEve，fortwenty—fiveyears，hadheandtheyfoughtinthatroom；buttheywouldnevertroublehimnoranybodyelseagain。Onebyone，hadhelaidthemout，spoilt，andutterlyuselessforallhauntingpurposes。HehadfinishedoffthelastGerman—bandghostthatveryevening，justbeforeIcameupstairs，andhadthrownwhatwasleftofitoutthroughtheslitbetweenthewindow—sashes。Hesaiditwouldneverbeworthcallingaghostagain。
　　"Isupposeyouwillstillcomeyourself，asusual？"Isaid。"Theywouldbesorrytomissyou，Iknow。"
　　"Oh，Idon’tknow，"hereplied；"there’snothingmuchtocomefornow。Unless，"headdedkindly，"YOUaregoingtobehere。I’llcomeifyouwillsleepherenextChristmasEve。"
　　"Ihavetakenalikingtoyou，"hecontinued；"youdon’tflyoff，screeching，whenyouseeaparty，andyourhairdoesn’tstandonend。You’venoidea，"hesaid，"howsickIamofseeingpeople’shairstandingonend。"
　　Hesaiditirritatedhim。
　　Justthenaslightnoisereachedusfromtheyardbelow，andhestartedandturneddeathlyblack。
　　"Youareill，"Icried，springingtowardshim；"tellmethebestthingtodoforyou。ShallIdrinksomebrandy，andgiveyoutheghostofit？"
　　Heremainedsilent，listeningintentlyforamoment，andthenhegaveasighofrelief，andtheshadecamebacktohischeek。
　　"It’sallright，"hemurmured；"Iwasafraiditwasthecock。"
　　"Oh，it’stooearlyforthat，"Isaid。"Why，it’sonlythemiddleofthenight。"
　　"Oh，thatdoesn’tmakeanydifferencetothosecursedchickens，"herepliedbitterly。"Theywouldjustassooncrowinthemiddleofthenightasatanyothertime——sooner，iftheythoughtitwouldspoilachap’seveningout。Ibelievetheydoitonpurpose。"
　　Hesaidafriendofhis，theghostofamanwhohadkilledawater—
　　ratecollector，usedtohauntahouseinLongAcre，wheretheykeptfowlsinthecellar，andeverytimeapolicemanwentbyandflashedhisbull’s—eyedownthegrating，theoldcocktherewouldfancyitwasthesun，andstartcrowinglikemad；when，ofcourse，thepoorghosthadtodissolve，anditwould，inconsequence，getbackhomesometimesasearlyasoneo’clockinthemorning，swearingfearfullybecauseithadonlybeenoutforanhour。
　　Iagreedthatitseemedveryunfair。
　　"Oh，it’sanabsurdarrangementaltogether，"hecontinued，quiteangrily。"Ican’timaginewhatouroldmancouldhavebeenthinkingofwhenhemadeit。AsIhavesaidtohim，overandoveragain，’Haveafixedtime，andleteverybodysticktoit——sayfouro’clockinsummer，andsixinwinter。Thenonewouldknowwhatonewasabout。’"
　　"Howdoyoumanagewhenthereisn’tanycockhandy？"Iinquired。
　　Hewasonthepointofreplying，whenagainhestartedandlistened。ThistimeIdistinctlyheardMr。Bowles’scock，nextdoor，crowtwice。
　　"Thereyouare，"hesaid，risingandreachingforhishat；"that’sthesortofthingwehavetoputupwith。WhatISthetime？"
　　Ilookedatmywatch，andfounditwashalf—pastthree。
　　"Ithoughtasmuch，"hemuttered。"I’llwringthatblessedbird’sneckifIgetholdofit。"Andhepreparedtogo。
　　"Ifyoucanwaithalfaminute，"Isaid，gettingoutofbed，"I’llgoabitofthewaywithyou。"
　　"It’sverygoodofyou，"herejoined，pausing，"butitseemsunkindtodragyouout。"
　　"Notatall，"Ireplied；"Ishalllikeawalk。"AndIpartiallydressedmyself，andtookmyumbrella；andheputhisarmthroughmine，andwewentouttogether。
　　JustbythegatewemetJones，oneofthelocalconstables。
　　"Good—night，Jones，"Isaid（IalwaysfeelaffableatChristmas—
　　time）。
　　"Good—night，sir，"answeredthemanalittlegruffly，Ithought。
　　"MayIaskwhatyou’rea—doingof？"
　　"Oh，it’sallright，"Iresponded，withawaveofmyumbrella；"I’mjustseeingmyfriendpartofthewayhome。"
　　Hesaid，"Whatfriend？"
　　"Oh，ah，ofcourse，"Ilaughed；"Iforgot。He’sinvisibletoyou。
　　Heistheghostofthegentlemanthatkilledthewait。I’mjustgoingtothecornerwithhim。"
　　"Ah，Idon’tthinkIwould，ifIwasyou，sir，"saidJonesseverely。"Ifyoutakemyadvice，you’llsaygood—byetoyourfriendhere，andgobackindoors。Perhapsyouarenotawarethatyouarewalkingaboutwithnothingonbutanight—shirtandapairofbootsandanopera—hat。Where’syourtrousers？"
　　Ididnotliketheman’smanneratall。Isaid，"Jones！Idon’twishtohavetoreportyou，butitseemstomeyou’vebeendrinking。Mytrousersarewhereaman’strousersoughttobe——onhislegs。Idistinctlyrememberputtingthemon。"
　　"Well，youhaven’tgotthemonnow，"heretorted。
　　"Ibegyourpardon，"Ireplied。"ItellyouIhave；IthinkI
　　oughttoknow。"
　　"Ithinkso，too，"heanswered，"butyouevidentlydon’t。Nowyoucomealongindoorswithme，anddon’tlet’shaveanymoreofit。"
　　UncleJohncametothedooratthispoint，havingbeenawaked，I
　　suppose，bythealtercation；and，atthesamemoment，AuntMariaappearedatthewindowinhernightcap。
　　Iexplainedtheconstable’smistaketothem，treatingthematteraslightlyasIcould，soasnottogetthemanintotrouble，andI
　　turnedforconfirmationtotheghost。
　　Hewasgone！Hehadleftmewithoutaword——withoutevensayinggood—bye！
　　Itstruckmeassounkind，hishavinggoneoffinthatway，thatI
　　burstintotears；andUncleJohncameout，andledmebackintothehouse。
　　Onreachingmyroom，IdiscoveredthatJoneswasright。Ihadnotputonmytrousers，afterall。Theywerestillhangingoverthebed—rail。Isuppose，inmyanxietynottokeeptheghostwaiting，Imusthaveforgottenthem。
　　Sucharetheplainfactsofthecase，outofwhichitmust，doubtless，tothehealthy，charitablemindappearimpossiblethatcalumnycouldspring。
　　Butithas。
　　Persons——Isay’persons’——haveprofessedthemselvesunabletounderstandthesimplecircumstanceshereinnarrated，exceptinthelightofexplanationsatoncemisleadingandinsulting。Slurshavebeencastandaspersionsmadeonmebythoseofmyownfleshandblood。
　　ButIbearnoill—feeling。Imerely，asIhavesaid，setforththisstatementforthepurposeofclearingmycharacterfrominjurioussuspicion。