"Why shouldn't you go there?" asked Rodgers.
"Because Abbot Raoul always walks where he was burnt," replied Mrs. Petley, "and there he was sure enough. No moonlight could I see, but the stars gave a faint light, and he was near the square--the accursed square where they burnt the poor soul. I gave one screech as he swept past in his long robes and a cowl, and when I come to myself on the damp grass, he was gone. I hurried in and told Petley, who came out and searched, but bless you," went on the housekeeper with contempt, "he couldn't find a thing that had gone back to the other world--not he."
"It was a dream, Mrs. Petley," said Rupert soothingly.
"No, sir. Trouble is coming to the Ainsleighs, as always does when the Abbot walks. And this morning I went out and found this," and Mrs. Petley, fishing in her capacious pocket, produced a small stick which smelt like cinnamon. Round it was a roll of scarlet paper inscribed with queer characters. Rupert stretched out his hand to take it, but the detective anticipated him.
"It's a joss-stick," said Rodgers. "I've seen them in the Whitechapel opium dens. Humph! Why should the ghost of an old monk use a joss-stick, like the Chinese?"
Before anyone could reply, Mrs. Petley gave a cry, "I told you trouble was coming, Master Rupert, dear," she said with the tears streaming from her fat face, "and anything to do with that weary Chiner where your poor pa lost his life always do bring trouble. Oh, dear me," she put her silk apron to her eyes and walked slowly out of the room. "I must tell my John. He may be able to say what's coming, as he have a gift of prophecy, that he have."
When Mrs. Petley closed the door after her, the three men looked at one another. "Do you believe in this ghost, Mr. Ainsleigh?" asked the detective, examining the joss-stick.
Rupert did not give a direct answer. "I don't know what to believe, Mr. Rodgers. Our family traditions have always pointed to the walking of Abbot Raoul before trouble, and it might be so. I have never seen the ghost myself, though."
"Your ghost is a Chinaman," said the detective, tapping the stick.
"But what would a Chinaman be doing in the cloisters?"
"Ah. That's what we've got to find out. There was a yacht in Marport Harbour last night, which came at midday, and departed in a hurry after midnight. Burgh says he believes Tung-yu went away in her, after committing the murder."