“She? This was a man.”
“Oh, no!” he contradicted. “That’s impossible.”
“He was a hairy brute and full-bearded besides,” I calmly insisted.
Lithway jumped up. “My God! there’s some one in the house.” He caught up a revolver. “Let us go and look. He’ll have made off with the silver.”
“Look here, Lithway,” I protested. “I tell you this man wasn’t real. He vanished into thin air—like any other ghost.”
“But the ghost is a woman.” He was as stupid as a child about it.
“Then there are two.” I didn’t really believe it, but it seemed clear that we could never settle the dispute. Each at least would have to pretend to believe the other for the sake of peace.
“Suppose you tell me about your ghost,” I suggested soothingly. But Lithway was dogged, and we had to spend an hour exploring the house and counting up Lithway’s valuables. Needless to say, there was no sign of invasion anywhere. At the end of the hour I repeated my demand. The scar was beginning to fade, I noted in the mirror, though still clearly visible.
“Suppose you tell me about your ghost. You never have, you know.”
“I’ve only seen her a few times.”