"It would take more than that to frighten
me," he said, simply. "I should be ashamed of myself to be afraid of a
poor thing like that. It couldn't do me any harm."
"Did you see its face?" inquired Mrs. Ward, nervously.
Mr. Farrer shook his head.
"What sort of a body had it got?" said her daughter.
"So far as I could see, very good," said Mr. Farrer. "Very good figure
--not tall, but well made."
An incredible suspicion that had been forming in the sergeant-major's
mind began to take shape. "Did you see anything else?" he asked,
sharply.
"One more," said Mr. Farrer, regarding him pleasantly. "One I call the
Running Ghost."
"Run--" began the sergeant-major, and stopped suddenly.
"It came in at the front gate," pursued Mr. Farrer. "A tall, well-knit
figure of martial bearing--much about your height, Mr. Ward--with a
beautiful filmy white robe down to its knees--"
He broke off in mild surprise, and stood gazing at Miss Ward, who, with
her handkerchief to her mouth, was rocking helplessly in her chair.
"Knees," he repeated, quietly. "It came slowly down the path, and half
way to the house it stopped, and in a frightened sort of voice called
out my name.
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