Jeffery Farnol

“ Almost within the shadow of the Bar he paused to lean gracefully upon his cane and peer up at a row of rusted iron spikes that crowned the central arch, divers of which spikes were topped by awful, shapeless, festering things that had once been human. ”

“ Merriam, sir, but there's been enough folk die in Clifford's one way or another. And then there's the Bar, d'ye see. Will ye step into my lodge for a spell, sir?"
"Thank you, no—that is, yes, I will, if you've a fire; 'tis perishing cold."
"Aye, so 'tis, sir—reg'lar Christmas weather an' all. But I've a fire as shall warm your outards an' innards in no time."
"You keep yourself very comfortable, Job," said Mr. Merriam, seating himself at the hearth and stretching his legs to the fire. ”

“ Merriam, fingering a scar that marked his handsome face. "Mr. Grice, at Number Fifteen, would seem to be a singularly well-informed gentleman. However, the young lord is certainly dead—yes, very thoroughly dead, it appears."
"Aye, sir, nobody was ever deader. And s' young—no more than twenty-three, they do say. An' such a death!"
"Decapitation is a swift death, Job, and consequently a merciful."
"Maybe, sir, but think what goes afore the stroke—the soldiers, the crowds, the shouting, the 'eadsman, the haxe itself! ”

“ Thus Mr. Merriam's step was a little more hurried and his knock a little louder and more imperious than usual upon the wicket, which, opening in due season, discovered Job, the night-watchman, lanthorn in hand.
"Is it you, Mr. Merriam, sir?" exclaimed Job. "'Ere's me thought I know'd all Clifford's genelmen by their indiwidual knocks, an' I took ye for Cap'en Standish a bit drunker than ord'nary."
"Has anyone inquired for me since I went out, Job?"
"Norra living soul, sir!"
"Egad, 'twould hardly be a dead one, I fancy."
"You don't believe in ghosts, then, sir—phantoms an' sich?" ”

“ And 'im so very young, and at Christmas, too—I calls it oncommon 'ard! What I say is, if ever a dead man turned hisself into a ghost and took to 'aunting—flittin' an' flyin', moanin' an' groanin'—it should be this here young lord, and, what's more——" Job paused suddenly as if to listen.
"Ah, did you hear it, Job?"
"Aye, sir. Sounded like the wicket shuttin' to."
Mr. Merriam's drowsiness vanished in an instant, and he was upon his feet, his keen gaze upon the door.
"There is someone outside," said he softly.
"Aye, but 'oo should open or shut the wicket without me, sir? It ain't reg'lar." ”