For he was no ghost. Ghosts do not leave footmarks behind them in the
snow. Ghosts do not break threads of cotton. It was a man I had seen in
the garden, and it was my business to trace out the connection between
him and the appearances at River Hall.
Thinking thus, I left the library, extinguished the candle by the aid of
which I had made the investigations stated above, and after lowering the
gaslight I always kept burning in the hall, began ascending the broad,
handsome staircase, when I was met by the figure of a man descending the
steps. I say advisedly, the figure; because, to all external appearance,
he was as much a living man as myself.
And yet I knew the thing which came towards me was not flesh and
blood. Knew it when I stood still, too much stupefied to feel afraid.
Knew it, as the figure descended swiftly, noiselessly. Knew it, as,
for one instant, we were side by side. Knew it, when I put out my hand
to stop its progress, and my hand, encountering nothing, passed
through the phantom as through air. Knew, it, when I saw the figure
pass through the door I had just locked, and which opened to admit the
ghostly visitor--opened wide, and then closed again, without the help
of mortal hand.
After that I knew nothing more till I came to my senses again and found
myself half lying, half sitting on the staircase, with my head resting
against the banisters.
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