"I wish so, too; but I don't see how it is possible till it bids me farewell. I no longer possess a will of my own, but am led or driven as if I were a machine."
"Keep cool, Ned. I am not going to argue with you any more about the spiritual existence of your apparition. I accept it, and almost wish that it were as plain to my eyes as it is to yours. But what I want you to do, old fellow, while this visitation is upon you, is to keep cool. For less cause than you have, men have gone mad. That is an unusual glare in the sky; it can hardly be the reflection of gaslights."
He extended his hand to the west--the direction in which the spectral cat was looking.
"Do you see any connection," I asked, "between that glare and the attention which the apparition is bestowing upon it?"
"No," replied Bob.
"I do. That is the reflection of a house on fire."
As the words passed my lips the cat glided up to me, and I could almost have deluded myself into the belief that it plucked at my trousers. This, of course, from so unsubstantial and impalpable a figure could not have been; but it is certain that by its motion it made me understand that I must not remain idle on the roof of Bob's house--that there was a fire in the distance, and that I must go to it.
I obeyed the voiceless command.
"Come!" I said to Bob.
"Where to?"