"Yes."
"I'm one of his admirers, General."
"So am I, Sir George."
The other smiled—for an admirer, the speaker's voice was singularly unenthusiastic.
"I believe in the ghost too," Romford continued.
The P.M.O. frowned, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke out. "Look here, Sir George, you're one of us, so there's no harm in you and me discussing the question. Tell me what do you make of this ghost business—epilepsy?"
"Decidedly not—Graeme's no epileptic; nor were Joan of Arc, St. Paul, and other visionaries, as used to be supposed. That idea's exploded. An epileptic never remembers what he's seen in his seizures—they did."
"What is it, then—mania?"
"Nor that either. All that eccentricity, in my opinion, is only a pose, probably to attract attention. Diseased vanity's at the bottom of that, I should say; it's quite separate from the vision part—that's a form of hysteria."
"Purely physical, you think?"