and looked up at it. It was, confound it! I found the white tie-box in the shadow of the curtain, and took out a tie, and began to tie it. My fingers confused. At that instant everything in me contracted. I stared into the mirror. Brooke was looking over my right shoulder.
My body was all a creeping thrill. I jerked round like one half-mad, with my fist tightly clenched, in some way saying:
'Devil!'
I would have beaten his pale, cold, corpse's face with my hard fist. There was not anything—except (I saw) the shadow of the bed-top on the upper wall-paper. I paced up and down the room, looking to right and left.
'Assuredly,' I said aloud in an observer's way, 'I will never believe in ghosts. It is far too easy to see one.'
In a little I came back and finished my hanging tie. I had been startled. There was no mistake about that. If I had really believed that I should have seen him, I pondered, then I should have seen him. And yet I desired to strike him. And yet I did not believe in him, somehow.
So, having turned down the gas, I came to the staircase-head and began to descend. A certain something, not too far from fear, prompted the idea of a hand reaching on to me from behind. I desired to turn and look. My will overcame my desire. I descended slowly, step after step, in an actor's way rather. My heel sounded on the tesselated floor of the hall. My eye observed of the big clock that it was a quarter to seven. I had beaten that something not too far from fear. I had not looked either round or behind. I went to the coat-rack; took down my theatre-coat; felt my latch-key in my right pocket, and went to the door. Opened it: went out, and drew it to with a low clang. Yes, I left certain supersensual things behind in the house—with Mrs. Herbert and the varicose veins!
I laughed as I drew on my coat; shot open the gibus, and put it on my head. I had been startled. There was no mistake about that. But I was wide
