I looked at Belt and wondered why the mind too should grow weak, as it most often does when disease lays hold of the body. In his healthy senses, Belt—who, like most New Englanders, believed only what he saw—would have jeered at the claims of a ghost. There was little credulity in that lank, bony frame.
But I stopped short in such thoughts, for I noticed that which made my blood quicken in surprise. Belt’s uniform was gone. I rose and looked behind the couch, thinking the lieutenant in his uneasy squirmings might have knocked it over there. But he had not done so; nor was it elsewhere in the room. It had gone clean away—perhaps through the wall, like Belt’s ghost. I wondered what Whitestone’s emotions would be if a somewhat soiled and worn Continental uniform, with no flesh and bones in it, should come walking down his beat.
I understood that it was a time for me to think my best, and I set about it. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the wall in the manner of those who do strenuous thinking. I shifted my gaze but once, and then to put it upon Belt, who I concluded would not come back to earth for a long time.
At the end of ten minutes I rose from my chair and went out into the hall, leaving the candle still burning on the table. Perhaps I, too, might find a ghost. I did not mean to lose the opportunity which might never seek me again.
The hall ran the full width of the house and was broad. There was a window at the end, but the light was so faint I could scarce see, and in the corners and near the walls so much dusk was gathered that the eye was of no use there. Yet, by much stealing about and reaching here and there with my hands, I convinced myself that no ghost lurked in that hall. But there was a stairway leading into an upper hall, and, as silent as a ghost myself, for which I take pride, I stole up the steps.
Just before I reached the top step I heard a faint shuffling noise like that which a heavy and awkward ghost with poor use of himself would most likely make. Nay, I have heard that ghosts never make noise, but I see no reason why they shouldn’t, at least a little.
I crouched down in the shadow of the top step and the banisters. The faint shuffling noise came nearer, and Belt’s lost uniform, upright and in its proper shape, drifted past me and down the steps. I followed lightly. I was not afraid. I have never heard, at least not with the proper authenticity, that ghosts strike one, or do other deeds of violence; so I followed, secure in my courage. The brass buttons on the uniform gleamed a little, and I kept them in clear view. Down the steps went the figure, and then it sped along the hall, with me after it. It reached the front door, opened it half a foot and stood there. That was my opportunity to hold discussion with a ghost, and I did not neglect it. Forward I slipped and tapped with my fingers an arm of the uniform, which inclosed not empty air but flesh and blood. Startled, the figure faced about and saw my features, for a little light came in at the door.
“I offer congratulations on your speedy recovery from fever, Lieutenant Belt,” I said, in a subdued tone.
“It was quick, it is true,” he replied, “but I need something more.”
“What is that?” I asked.