‘Yes. She has dark hair, and splendid dark eyes; she is tall and lovely. The lady and the spirit are alike, the counterpart of each other.’
Once more Bradley was conscious of the white form standing near him; he reached out his hands to touch it, but it immediately vanished.
At the same moment he felt a touch like breath upon his face, and heard a soft musical voice murmuring in his ear—
‘Ambrose! beloved!’
He started in wonder, for the voice seemed that of Alma Craik.
‘Be good enough not to break the chain!’ said the landlady, who occupied the chair at his side.
Trembling violently, he returned his hands to their place, touching those of his immediate neighbours on either side. The instant he did so, he heard the voice again, and felt the touch like breath.
‘Ambrose, do you know me?’
‘Who is speaking?’ he demanded.
A hand soft as velvet and cold as ice was passed over his hair.