"No heads?"
"No, sir."
Mr. Frobisher-Pym laughed.
"Come, come, Plunkett, you don't expect us to swallow that. No heads? How could even a ghost drive horses with no heads? How about the reins, eh?"
"You may laugh, sir, but we know that with God all things are possible. Four white horses they was. I see them clearly, but there was neither head nor neck beyond the collar, sir. I see the reins, shining like silver, and they ran up to the rings of the hames, and they didn't go no further. If I was to drop down dead this minute, sir, that's what I see."
"Was there a driver to this wonderful turn-out?"
"Yes, sir, there was a driver."
"Headless too, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir, headless too. At least, I couldn't see nothing of him beyond his coat, which had them old-fashioned capes at the shoulders."
"Well, I must say, Plunkett, you're very circumstantial. How far off was this—er—apparition when you saw it?"