“Donald,” I said, “if I told you that Cicely is in the room now, I suppose you wouldn’t believe me?”
“Is it likely?”
“No. All the same, I see her as plainly as I see you.”
The phantasm rose and moved to his side.
“She’s standing close beside you.”
And now it moved and went to the writing-table. I turned and followed its movements. It slid its open hands over the table, touching everything, unmistakably feeling for something it believed to be there.
I went on. “She’s at the writing-table now. She’s looking for something.”
It stood back, baffled and distressed. Then suddenly it began opening and shutting the drawers, without a sound, searching each one in turn.
I said, “Oh, she’s trying the drawers now!”
Donald stood up. He was not looking at the place where it was. He was looking hard at me, in anxiety and a sort of fright. I supposed that was why he remained unaware of the opening and shutting of the drawers.