Luckily we were allowed an unusually long time for dressing, and I was
able to get a smoke and take a bath; by dinner-time I was more like
myself.

I tried hard at first to persuade myself that the entire scene had been
imaginary; but I could not succeed. I was too firmly convinced that I
had actually seen such a figure to entertain the idea.

Dinner passed without particular incident. I had an interesting chat
after with young Father Vansome. I discovered that he was a Benedictine
attached to one of the English monasteries, and had been permitted, as a
relief from a long spell of heavy teaching work, to spend a few days at
Ardmuir House, where his mother was then staying. He was dressed like an
ordinary priest; this, as he explained, was out of consideration for the
Ashols, who were entertaining among their guests that day some of
ultra-Protestant views, who might have resented the intrusion into their
midst of a real live monk, "in habit as he lived."

More than once during our conversation the extraordinary occurrence which
had disturbed my peace of mind kept intruding itself upon my mental
vision, and again and again it was almost divulged to my companion; but I
shrank from being laughed at as a victim to superstitious imaginings. I
had a priest for a brother, and no one knew better than I how sceptical
were our own clergy with regard to any supernatural happenings that had
not been corroborated by the testimony of reliable authority.

There was the usual smoke, with the usual billiards, and bedtime arrived
without any disclosure on my part of the mysterious incident. I did not
fear further revelations, for my bedroom was nowhere near the scene of