"That very day, as the train came out of the tunnel, I noticed at a carriage window on my side what looked like a confusion of hands and heads and something waved. I saw it just in time to signal the driver, stop! He shut off and put his brake on, but the train drifted past here a hundred and fifty yards or more. I ran after it and as I went along heard terrible screams and cries. A beautiful young lady had died instantaneously in one of the compartments and was brought in here and laid down on this floor between us."
Involuntarily I pushed my chair back suddenly, as I looked from the boards, at which he pointed, to himself.
"True, sir. True. Precisely as it happened, so I tell it you."
I could think of nothing to say, to any purpose, and my mouth was very dry. The wind and the wires took up the story with a long lamenting wail.
He resumed. "Now, sir, mark this and judge how my mind is troubled. The spectre came back a week ago. Ever since it has been there, now and again, by fits and starts."
"At the light?"
"At the danger-light."
"What does it seem to do?"
He repeated, if possible, with increased passion and vehemence, that former gesticulation of, "For God's sake, clear the way!"