THE GHASTLY RELIC.

Meantime Fritz had been in the old rookery some time prior to the arrival of the bearded men.

No sooner had he entered the large hall, and closed the door behind him, than he felt a sort of dread of something, he knew not what. There was a damp, musty, deathly smell about the place that he did not quite like.

"I don'd know vedder I vas afraid of ghosts or not," he soliloquized, pausing and gazing around him. "It looks ash uff dis might be a blace vere dey manufacture ghost shows; but somebody has liffed here vonce upon a time."

The carpet yet remained upon the floor of the long hall, and also upon the staircase which led to the upper floor. There was also a large picture hung upon the wall.

Passing along the hall, Fritz tried each of the doors which opened off from it, but in each instance he found them locked, and was unable to effect an entrance.

"Vel, dot looks like ash uff nopody vas to home," he muttered. "I'll try der upstairs part, und if I don'd haff no better success, I vil stay out mit der hall."

He accordingly ascended the hall staircase, and proceeded to take a tour of the upper part of the rambling old structure.

Here the doors were all locked, with one exception, and this had evidently been left as locked, the bolt being turned, but the door not having been tightly closed, the bolt failed to enter the socket.

Opening this door, Fritz entered, and found himself in a large furnished apartment, there being a carpet, old and moth-eaten, upon the floor; several pieces of stuffed furniture, which had also been victims of moth and worm, and a large round oaken table in the center of the room.

And over this, suspended by a cord, which was fastened to the ceiling, was an object which caused Fritz to utter a grunt of startled alarm.

It was a man's head, cut from the body at the throat, and held in suspension by a cord fastened to the long hair.

The head had probably hung there for a year or so, for the flesh had dried down upon the bones. The eyes, however, retained their glassy stare, the teeth showed to ghastly advantage, and the heavy black mustache and goatee bristled ferociously.

Fritz gave a startled cry, and his hair fairly raised on end, as he beheld the strange spectacle, but the longer he stared at it, the less his alarm, and he finally advanced into the room.

"By shimminy—I vas skeardt like ash der duyfel at first, put now I don'd vas a bit afraid. Somepody hang dot up there yoost for a scare-crow. Uff der ghosts vas to see it, I'll bet a half-dollar dey vould run."

Just then there was a flash of lightning and a heavy roll of thunder, which caused Fritz to start, and give a nervous glance at the swinging head.

"I don'd quite vas like id here," he muttered, uneasily. "I'd makes a veller t'ink he's goin' der get smashed up effery minute. I vonder vot dey keep up there?" and his eyes rested upon an aperture in the ceiling, such as is often provided in houses as a means of reaching the roof. A stout rope hung down through this opening to the floor of the room, and had evidently been used to climb up into the attic.

Fritz was just contemplating it, when a sound of footsteps in the hall outside aroused him to quicker thoughts.

"I'll bet a half-dollar it's a ghost comin'," he gasped, the tendency of his hair being again decidedly upward. "But, it was a cold day ven dey scalb me mit der tommyhawk, ash long ash I can climb."

Accordingly, up the rope he went, hand-over-hand, with the agility of a monkey, and soon gained the attic immediately above the chamber.

It was a dark, ill-smelling place, and so far as Fritz could see, used for no particular purpose whatever.

Ensconcing himself directly beside the aperture through which he had come up, Fritz prepared to await developments.

He was not a little anxious to know who the new-comer was—whether a human or spiritual being, for if the latter, he had a curiosity to inspect it.

In a few moments the door opened and a strapping Irishman stalked into the chamber, a lank, lean specimen of humanity, with a Killkenny face, red hair, a fringe of reddish beard under his lower jaw, extending to his ears, and attired in brogans, short pantaloons, and a blue soldier coat, with a grimy clay pipe in his mouth, and battered plug hat on his head. Of the "rale old" race of Irishmen, he was certainly a good specimen.

"Arrah! sure it's divil one room but they have locked, an' a sorry place it is, too, for a dacent Irish gintlemon—an the son of a duke at that! Bad 'cess to sich a counthry, onny-how. It's wurruk like the divil for a bit of grub, and when a mon gits out ov wurruk sure stomick has to pay for it. If yez ax a mon will he be afther givin' yez a nip off bread, he tell yez, 'Arrah! off wid ye, ye murdtherin' tromp, or I'll sick tha purrup on yez!' bedad."

"I'll yoost pet half-dollar der Irishman vas pin stoppin' mit Samples!" Fritz muttered, with a grin, taking a peep at the son of Erin. "He vas hungry like as vot I vas. Vonder off he haff discovered der skelegon, yet avile."

The Hibernian had not, evidently, for he was perched composedly beneath the suspended head.

"Sorry a place this is for the son of a duke," he went on muttering. "Sure, it looks as if the ould divil himself had been here. Guess this property would be sellin' moighty cheap, tha while. Ugh!" as a heavy clap of thunder caused the house to shake from stem to stern, "a sorry wild night it's a-goin' to be, an' it's meself that's wishin' I was back forninst the furdther side av the big puddle."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Fritz, throwing his voice to the farther side of the room.

"Yis, ha! ha! bad 'cess to the loikes av yez, whoever ye may be!" the Irishman cried, fiercely, gazing in vain around the apartment, in search of the author of the laugh.

"Ho! ho! itchy, dirdty Irish!" Fritz caused a different voice to say, in a still opposite part of the room.

"No, I'm divil a wan av the likes!" the son of Erin cried, getting angry. "Bad luck to yez! ef I gits me hands on yez, it's a divil's own trouncin' you'll get, ontirely. I'll have yez know my name is Patrick Grogan, an' it's the dacent, gintlemonly son av a duke and a duchess I am, bedad."

"A son off a gun, more likely. Look out, you bloody Irish, or I vil spit on you!" Fritz caused the suspended head to say, in a hoarse, gurgling voice.

"Aha! it's spittin' on me yez'll be, eh?" the Hibernian cried, leaping from his seat, his walking-stick in hand—a formidable piece of real thorn. "Oh! you black-livered omadhaun, if I catch yez, won't I tache yez to be dacent and civil to a gintlemon!"

Then, chancing to glance upward, he saw for the first the swinging head, and in utter horror dropped upon his knees and raised his hands upward in supplication.

"Oh, holy Virgin Mary, protect me!" he howled, his terrified gaze glued upon the unsightly object. "Oh, murdtherin Maria! och, bad luck! fot have I done, Mr. Divil? shure it's nary a thing wrong I've did, nor sthalin' I've never been guilty of!"

"You vas von son-off-a-sea-cook!" came from the head.

"Yis—och, sure I'se anything yez wants, Mr. Divil! only don't be afther hurtin' the loikes av me!"

"Then arise, dirdty Irish, and climb into the attic, before the spirits come to wrap their icy clutches around you!"

"Sure, I'll be afther goin'," Pat cried, and he did go—not up the rope, but out of the room, as fast as he could go.

Nor did he pause until outside of the house, as Fritz could tell by the sound of his rapidly retreating footsteps.

"Vel, dot vas purdy goot fun," Fritz muttered with a grin. "I dink I vil vait dil some vone else comes."

He had not long to wait before footsteps sounded once more, coming up the stairs, just as the storm broke loose outside, and torrents of rain poured down upon the roof, while the thunder rumbled ominously.

Presently two men entered, one carrying a lantern, for it was now quite dark.

Both were roughly dressed and brutal-looking fellows, wearing heavy black beards.

"Humph!" was Fritz's mental comment, as he beheld them. "I'll bet a half-dollar I smells von mice. Uff I haff not made a big mistake, I dinks I haff stumbled right inder the smugglers' den vot I am looking for."

It was only a sudden suspicion, to be sure; nevertheless it struck him very forcibly.

One of the men set the lantern upon the table, and then perched himself beside it, while the other sat down upon a chair and gazed speculatively at the ghastly object which hung suspended from the ceiling.

"I wonder how long afore the rest o' ther boys will be here," he growled.

"Dunno," the other fellow replied. "Hope they'll come afore long and settle the matter, so that we'll know what we've got to do."

"How d'ye think it's going?"

"Dunno. Reckon the majority'll be ag'in' the poor cuss."

"I'm thinkin' that way, too. I kinder hope not, though, for I don't fancy the job."

"Pshaw! you're chicken-hearted, without cause. He's never made love to you."

"Darn it, no; but he's too fine a specimen of manhood to feed to the sharks."

"Pooh! Many's the one better'n he wot's enriched the bottom o' the sea. I wonder who the Irishman was, we met at the front?"

"Some tramp, I allow, who'd sought a night's shelter here, and got skeered at our friend Bill," and he glanced at the swinging head with a laugh. "Hello! I say, Bill, how are you getting along in your new place o' residence?"

"First-rate!" apparently answered the grinning head, followed by a ghostly sort of a gurgling laugh.

"Jehosaphat!" cried the questioner, leaping to his feet. "Thunder and lightning! Did ye hear that, Hand?"

"Waal, I should murmur," Hank grunted, leaving the table with a spring, and landing near the door. "What the devil's the matter?"

"Cussed ef the cadaver o' Bill Budge didn't speak," the first man cried.

"Git out! Budge has bin dead over a year; how in thunder could he speak?"

"Mebbe his spirit hes come back inter his head."

"Pooh! impossible! It was our fancy; we didn't hear nothin'," Hank growled, edging a little nearer to the door.

"You're a liar!" thundered a voice, seeming to come directly from between the pearly teeth of the suspended head, and to make matters worse, the head began to swing slowly to and fro.

With howls and curses, the two masked men made the hastiest kind of an exit from the room and down the stairs, while Fritz in the attic was convulsed with laughter.

"Dot was better as half-a-dozen suppers, py shimminy!" he snorted, holding his sides.

All was now quiet for some time, except for the howling of the storm without.

But, finally, footsteps were again heard, and eight men, all masked but one, filed into the room.

The eighth man was a young man, of prepossessing appearance, unmasked, and had his hands bound behind his back.

He was better dressed than his grim captors, and there was a fearless, cool expression upon his face, that at once won Fritz's admiration.

"Ha! Hank and Jim have been here already, and gone!" a tall, broad-shouldered member of the party said. "They'll be back directly, no doubt. And now, Hal Hartly, we will proceed to review your case, and dispose of it according to the decision of the majority."

"Go ahead, captain!" the prisoner replied, calmly. "I am as well prepared now, as I shall be."