"How so?" I asked.
"Last year, in a fit of bravado, a young carpenter ventured to sit in the porch at the witching hour, and saw himself enter the church. He came home, looking as blank as a sheet, moped, lost flesh, and died nine months later."
"Of course he died, if he had made up his mind to do so."
"Yes—that is explicable. But how do you account for his having seen his double?"
"He had been drinking at the public-house. A good many people see double after that."
"It was not so. He was perfectly sober at the time."
"Then I give it up."
"Would you venture on a visit to a church porch on this night—St. Mark's eve?"
"Certainly I would, if well wrapped up, and I had my pipe."
"I bar the pipe," said Miss Fulton. "No apparition can stand tobacco smoke. But there is Lady Eastleigh rising. When you come to rejoin the ladies, I shall be gone."