But this was not to be the end of my ghostly experience. The stronger light brought many roadside objects into prominence, and the moment the flame disappeared I became conscious of an indistinct black blotch against the lighter background of the hedge. It was, of course, too dark for me to be certain of its exact shape, even had I been in a calm enough state of mind to take in details; but in any case I was allowed only a momentary glimpse, for whilst I stood with the breath caught in my throat, this mysterious something took three rapid strides across the road and disappeared without a sound into the thick hawthorn hedge opposite.
At this stage I must confess to having lost all control of myself. Without another look I took to my heels and ran, as though all the powers of darkness were behind me.
The scare I had got made me quite oblivious of my direction, but I suppose natural instinct guided me, for I found myself at last, almost pumped out, trotting into the little High Street of Canewdon by the road along which I should have driven, and no doubt in far better time. I had no relish, in my then state of mind, for another lonely night in the cottage, although it stood only fifty yards away, so I made my way to the Chequers, the only inn the village possessed, and asked for a bed.
My recent arrival in the place had given me little time to become acquainted with the village notables, but I fancy the landlady knew me by sight, and no doubt thought the request strange. In any case her “Certainly, sir,” was followed by a close scrutiny. “You’re looking very queer, sir,” she added; “has anything happened?”
Surrounded by more human elements, I began to feel thoroughly ashamed of myself, and rather doubted the wisdom of giving the narrative away; but the thought that, perhaps, being a resident, she might be able to throw some light upon my weird experience finally decided me to make a clean breast of the whole affair; and I promptly did so in the little inn-parlour.
I had barely got half-way through the incident upon the road when she sat back in her chair, and said in a quiet, almost matter-of-fact tone:—
“You’ve seen the headless woman, sir.”
“The headless woman?” I asked, startled. “Who’s she?”
“I may as well tell you,” she replied, “though we don’t talk of it much here. Have you noticed a wooden house painted white, and standing alone about a hundred yards this way from the stile on the Fambridge road?”
I said that I had, and thought it was a farmhouse.