There was a general stampede for the opposite door, and the ghost was left in possession. I walked around the table, and swept the various piles of money into my pocket. Retiring to bed, I slept soundly till the next morning. When I came down to breakfast, eager inquiries were made by the others as to what had happened.
"Well," I answered, "there was some one came, and asked, 'Do you want to be shaved?' So I said, 'No, I don't; but there are some chaps downstairs who do.'"
That's as near as I ever got to meeting a spectre.
But I have seen a dead man galvanized into life.
This is the way it happened.
It was on the stage.
We were playing Juliet at the time. I used to affect Shakespeare when I was young and foolish.
Paris had been duly slain, and Juliet lay stretched upon her bier.