“You were not there,” shouted the sergeant-major.

“How do you know?” inquired the other.

The sergeant-major looked round helplessly at his wife and daughter.

“Prove it,” said Mr. Farrer, pushing his advantage.  “You questioned my courage, and I stayed there three hours.  Where were you?”

“You were not there,” said the sergeant-major.  “I know.  You can’t bluff me.  You were afraid.”

“I was there, and I’ll swear it,” said Mr. Farrer.  “Still, there’s no harm done.  I’ll go there again to-night, and I’ll dare you to come for me?”

“Dare?” said the sergeant-major, choking.  “Dare?”

“Dare,” repeated the other; “and if you don’t come this time I’ll spread it all over Marcham.  To-morrow night you can go there and wait for me.  If you see what I saw—­”

“Oh, Ted!” said Miss Ward, with a shiver.  “Saw?” said the sergeant-major, starting.  “Nothing harmful,” said Mr. Farrer, calmly.

“As a matter of fact, it was very interesting.”

“What was?” demanded the sergeant-major.

“It sounds rather silly, as a matter of fact,” said Mr. Farrer, slowly.  “Still, I did see a broken bough moving about the garden.”

Mr. Ward regarded him open-mouthed.

“Anything else?” he inquired, in a husky voice.

“A figure in white,” said Mr. Farrer, “with long waving arms, hopping about like a frog.  I don’t suppose you believe me, but if you come to-night perhaps you’ll see it yourself.  It’s very interesting.

“Wer—­weren’t you frightened?” inquired the staring Mrs. Ward.

Mr. Farrer shook his head.  “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.  I was surprised, naturally, but before I could get to it—­ to reassure it—­”