Towards evening a violent storm of rain came on, and the wind was so high that all the windows and doors in the old house shook and rattled. In fact, it was just such weather as the ghost loved. His plan of action was this.

He was to make his way quietly to Washington Otis' room, gibber at him from the foot of the bed, and stab himself three times in the throat to the sound of low music. He bore Washington a special grudge, being quite aware that it was he who was in the habit of removing the famous Canterville blood-stain, by means of Pinkerton's Paragon Detergent.

Having reduced the reckless and foolhardy youth to a condition of abject terror, he was then to proceed to the room occupied by the United States Ambassador and his wife, and there to place a clammy hand on Mrs. Otis's forehead, while he hissed into her trembling husband's ear the awful secrets of the charnel-house.

With regard to little Virginia, he had not quite made up his mind. She had never insulted him in any way, and was pretty and gentle.

A few hollow groans from the wardrobe, he thought, would be more than sufficient, or, if that failed to wake her, he might pull at the counterpane with palsy-twitching fingers.

As for the twins, he was quite determined to teach them a lesson.