Suddenly he understood everything. He had been tricked, his plans had failed, and the twins had been too clever for him! The old Canterville look came into his eyes; he became so angry he couldn't speak.

Then he raised his withered hands high above his head, and he swore in very old-fashioned English, that when the farmyard cock had crowed twice, that he would have his bloody revenge, and there would be silent murder in the house.

He had just finished this terrible promise when a cock crowed from the roof of the farmhouse nearby. The ghost laughed a long, bitter laugh, and waited. He waited for hours, but for some strange reason the cock did not crow again. Finally, at half-past seven, the housemaids started cleaning the house, so he had to give up and go away.

He stalked back to his room, not understanding why he had been stopped from doing the terrible things that he had promised. There he checked in several books about ancient chivalry. (He liked the subject very much.)

The books said that the cock had always crowed a second time, every time this promise of revenge had been made.

'May the devil take the naughty fowl,' muttered the ghost, 'there was once a time when I would have stabbed that cock through the throat with my spear, and made him crow for me while he was dying!' The ghost then got into a comfortable lead coffin, and stayed there till evening.