"Please go on?"

"We are dying to hear!"

"A real ghost story!"

"Is it your best, George?"

"It is my only one," Sefton answered, and was silent a few moments, as
if arranging his thoughts.

"Well, here goes!" he began. "I was staying at a country house--"

"Not here, I hope!" said Lufa.

"I have reasons for not saying where it was, or where it wasn't. It may
have been in Ireland, it may have been in Scotland, it may have been in
England; it was in one of the three--an old house, parts very old. One
morning I happened to be late, and found the breakfast-table deserted. I
was not the last, however; for presently another man appeared, whom I
had met at dinner the day before for the first time. We both happened to
be in the army, and had drawn a little together. The moment I saw him, I
knew he had passed an uncomfortable night. His face was like dough, with
livid spots under the eyes. He sat down and poured himself out a cup of
tea. 'Game-pie?' I said, but he did not heed me. There was nobody in the
room but ourselves, and I thought it best to leave him alone. 'Are you
an old friend of the family?' he said at length. 'About the age of most
friends,' I answered. He was silent again, for a bit, then said, 'I'm
going to cut!' 'Ha, ha!' thought I, and something more. 'No, it's not
that!' he said, reading my thought, which had been about a lady in the