Sir,—Yours to command. Sir, I have not forgot our pleasant talk on that snowy night up in the far north, when you were pleased to be interested in my experiences of Lausdree. Could you very kindly meet me any day and time you choose to fix at Leuchars? And oblige,
Your obedient servant,
Jeremiah Anklebone.
P.S.—I have something to divulge to you connected with St Andrews that may absorb your mind.
Accordingly, I fixed up arrangements and met Mr Anklebone at Leuchars, where we went to the nearest hostelry and ordered the best lunch they had there. Jeremiah looked thinner, older, and whiter than when I last saw him, doubtless owing to his frequent communing with spirits.
“How is Lausdree getting on?” I meekly inquired, “and what of the ghosts?”
“It is getting on fine, sir. I have had a number of new experiences since I had the pleasure of seeing you last. You must understand, sir, that my family for generations have been favoured with occult powers. My father was a great seer, and my great-grandfather, Mr Concrikketty Anklebone, of the Isle of Skye, was a wonderful visionary.”
Now, Anklebone was an interesting old fellow, but he had a tiresome habit of wandering away from his theme, and, as it were, getting off the main road into a labyrinth of bye-ways, and one had, metaphorically, to push him out of these side lanes and place him on his feet again in the main road.
“Before I come to St Andrews Castle,” he said, “I must tell you about a queer episode of an astral body at Lausdree, a disentangled personality, as it were.”
“Push along,” I said, “and tell me.”