of X, I could readily understand, but that he should first have
followed him in seemed to pass the bounds of comprehension.

"Well," said Annerly, "Q and Miss M were to be married. Everything
was arranged. The wedding was to take place on the last day of the
year. Exactly six months and four days before the appointed day (I
remember the date because the coincidence struck me as peculiar at
the time) Q came to me late in the evening in great distress. He
had just had, he said, a premonition of his own death. That evening,
while sitting with Miss M on the verandah of her house, he had
distinctly seen a projection of the dog R pass along the road."

"Stop a moment," I said. "Did you not say that the dog's name
was Z?"

Annerly frowned slightly.

"Quite so," he replied. "Z, or more correctly Z R, since Q was in
the habit, perhaps from motives of affection, of calling him R as
well as Z. Well, then, the projection, or phanogram, of the dog
passed in front of them so plainly that Miss M swore that she could
have believed that it was the dog himself. Opposite the house the
phantasm stopped for a moment and wagged its tail. Then it passed
on, and quite suddenly disappeared around the corner of a stone
wall, as if hidden by the bricks. What made the thing still more
mysterious was that Miss M's mother, who is partially blind, had
only partially seen the dog."

Annerly paused a moment. Then he went on: