and the probability of their existence.
"Are you indeed, old chap," I said.
"Yes, thorough bass, and consecutive fifths and harmony and all that sort of thing, you know. He has a pupil, Macbeth Churchtimber, who has just written a thundering pretty waltz called "Eleanor Wynne."
"I thought Churchtimber," I mildly suggested, "only played severe classical stuff."
"Oh, yes," replied my friend, "but he occasionally touches on a lighter theme, and has even written a comic song, called, 'I lay beside a milestone with a sunflower on my brow.'"
"I must try it someday," I said, "but how about your ghosts? Have you seen any lately?"
"There was one here a few minutes ago," said Greenbracket, "a tall man in armour sitting in that corner over there."
"What rubbish," I said, quite crossly, "you dream things, or drink, or eat too much."
"No I don't," said Greenbracket, "do you really mean to to tell that you felt no sensation just now, no pricking or tingling feeling, or a chilly sensation down your back?"
"Certainly not, nothing of the kind," I replied.
"Well, that is queer," he said, "I know you don't see these things, but I fancied you would have felt a strange presence in some way. I don't know who the man in armour was. I have not seen him before, but my butler has, at all events. It was not Sir Roger de Wanklyn."
"Who the is he?" I queried.
"Oh," said my host, "he is the earth-bound spirit of an architect who lived in St Andrews at the time that James the Fifth married Mary of Lorraine in the Cathedral; he says he was present at the ceremony and can describe it all. A gay pageant it was and much revelry."
"If you can get all this sort of curious information, which I don't exactly credit, why on earth can't you find out something practical and useful, for instance, where the secret underground hiding place is, and where all the tons of valuable ornaments, papers, and vestments are concealed?"
"My, dear friend," said Greenbracket solemnly, "these
