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When Sylvester had ascertained in the morning that the ghost had been seen in the village again, he felt greatly relieved, having found the string, on awaking, round his ancle as usual, the key in the desk, and the desk beneath the bed. He held it, then, to be abundantly clear that he couldn't be the "ghost," and was about to repudiate the idea of his being a somnambulist, when he received from his solicitor a letter requiring his presence in town. This had the effect of reinspiring suspicion. He might be a somnambulist, and yet not the "ghost." It was possible—nay, when he reflected upon the serious accusation of Sir Charles—he could not but think it highly probable. But how was the thing to be proved? That was the question still. He had in vain tried to prove it himself; and, therefore, felt bound to communicate his suspicion to another. This he eventually resolved to do; but as he had to go to London immediately, he thought it best to conceal it, at least for the present, from his aunt and her reverend friend, and on his arrival in town to consult Tom Delolme.

He accordingly communicated only the contents of the letter then; and no sooner had his aunt and the reverend gentleman become perfectly conscious of his intention to leave them that morning, than the cottage became a theatre of excitement. Cook, Judkins, and Mary were instantly summoned. Judkins was directed to get the phaeton ready; cook received instructions to make up a large fire for the purpose of airing the shirts; and while Mary went with her mistress to ransack the drawers, the reverend gentleman, with an infinite profundity of expression, was cutting sandwiches, in a peculiarly scientific style.

By virtue of this admirable division of labour, the shirts, within the hour, were aired and packed up—the sandwiches were enveloped in sheets of Bath paper—and the phaeton appeared at the gate. There had been, however, no time to impress upon Sylvester the necessity for his sending them every information having reference to the trial, at which they both of course intended to be present. Aunt Eleanor, therefore, hastily slipped on her things, and entered the phaeton with her reverend friend, with the view not only of seeing Sylvester to the coach, but of enforcing this necessity by the way.

As they passed through the village, Obadiah and Pokey were, as usual, with Legge, at the Crumpet and Crown, and the very moment Obadiah saw them, he exclaimed—

"There, there you are, my Britons! That's the dodge—that's it. I'll bet you what you like of it: up to something, safe. Don't you see the portmanter? Going to the coach, perhaps, to get rid of that boney fide young fibber."

"What do you mean by a young fibber?" demanded Legge.