“You’ve something on your mind!  What is it?” my wife demanded.

I hesitated a moment or two and then told her.  The next quarter of an hour was one I do not care to recollect, but when it was over, and she had had her say, it was decided I should make enquiries and see if there was any possible way of getting rid of the ghosts.  With this end in view, I drove to the town, and after several fruitless efforts was at length introduced to a Mr. Marsden, clerk of one of the banks, who, in reply to my questions, said: 

“Well, Mr. B——­, it’s just this way.  I do know something, only—­in a small place like this—­one has to be so extra careful what one says.  Some years ago a Mr. Jeremiah Dance occupied the Crow’s Nest.  He came here apparently a total stranger, and though often in the town, was only seen in the company of one person—­his landlord, Mr. Baldwin, with whom—­if local gossip is to be relied on—­he appeared to be on terms of the greatest familiarity.  Indeed, they were seldom apart, walked about the lanes arm-in-arm, visited each other’s houses on alternate evenings, called each other “Teddy” and “Leslie.”  This state of things continued for nearly three years, and then people suddenly began to comment on the fact that Mr. Dance had gone, or at least was no longer visible.  An errand-boy, returning back to town, late one evening, swore to being passed on the way by a trap containing Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Dance, who were speaking in very loud voices—­just as if they were having a violent altercation.  On reaching that part of the road where the trees are thickest overhead, the lad overtook them, or rather Mr. Baldwin, preparing to mount into the trap.  Mr. Dance was nowhere to be seen.  And from that day to this nothing has ever been heard of him.  As none of his friends or relations came forward to raise enquiries, and all his bills were paid—­several of them by Mr. Baldwin—­no one took the matter up.  Mr. Baldwin pooh-poohed the errand-boy’s story, and declared that, on the night in question, he had been alone in an altogether different part of the county, and knew nothing whatever of Mr. Dance’s movements, further than that he had recently announced his intention of leaving the Crow’s Nest before the expiration of the three years’ lease.  He had not the remotest idea where he was.  He claimed the furniture in payment of the rent due to him.”

“Did the matter end there?” I asked.

“In one sense of the word, yes—­in another, no.  Within a few weeks of Dance’s disappearance rumours got afloat that his ghost had been seen on the road, just where, you may say, you saw it.  As a matter of fact, I’ve seen it myself—­and so have crowds of other people.”

“Has anyone ever spoken to it?”

“Yes—­and it has vanished at once.  I went there one night with the purpose of laying it, but, on its appearing suddenly, I confess I was so startled, that I not only forgot what I had rehearsed to say, but ran home, without uttering as much as a word.”