“Dimly. I can’t seem to make you understand how vague the whole thing was--and yet it was there! As he leaned over me, I saw him--saw the indistinct shape--and I heard the sound of a watch ticking. It was not my watch, it was a very faint ticking one, but all else was so still, that I positively heard it.” “Gee!” said Fibsy, in an explosive whisper. “Then he seemed about to move away. Impulsively, I made a movement to detain him. Almost without volition--acting on instinct--I put out my hand and clutched his arm. I felt his sleeve--it wasn’t a coat sleeve--nor a pajama sleeve--it seemed to have on his gymnasium suit--the sleeve was like woolen jersey--” “And you felt this?” “Yes, Mr. Stone, I felt it distinctly--and not only with my hand as I grasped at his arm but” Aunt Abby hesitated an instant, then went on, “But I bit at him! Yes, I did! I don’t know why, only I was possessed with an impulse to hold him--and he was slipping away. I didn’t realize at the time--who--what it was, and I sort of thought it was a burglar. But, anyway, I bit at him, and so I bit at the woolen sleeve--it was unmistakable--and on it I tasted raspberry jam.” “What!” cried her hearers almost in concert. “Yes--you needn’t laugh--I guess I know the taste of raspberry jam, and it was on that sleeve, as sure as I’m sitting here!” “Gee!” repeated Fibsy, his fists clenched on his knees and his bright eyes fairly boring into the old lady’s countenance. “Gee whiz!” “Go on,” said Stone, quietly. “And--I smelt gasoline,” concluded Miss Ames defiantly. “Now, sir, there’s the story. Make what you will out of it, it’s every word true. I’ve thought it over and over, since I realized what it all meant, and had I known at the time it was Sanford’s spirit, I should have spoken to him. But as it was, I was too stunned to speak, and when I tried to hold him, he slipped away, and disappeared. But it was positively a materialization of Sanford Embury’s flitting spirit--and nothing else.” “The vision may argue a passing soul,” Stone said kindly, as if humoring her, “but the effect on your other senses, seems to me to indicate a living person.” “No,” and Aunt Abby spoke with deep solemnity, “a materialized spirit is evident to our senses--one or another of them. In this case I discerned it by all five senses, which is unusual--possibly unique; but I am very psychic--very sensitive to spiritual manifestations.” “You have seen ghosts before, then?” “Oh, yes. I have visions often. But never such a strange one.” “And where did this spirit disappear to?” “It just faded. It seemed to waft on across the room. I closed my eyes involuntarily, and when I opened them again it was gone.” “Leaving no trace behind?” “The faint odor of gasoline--and the taste of raspberry jam on my tongue.” Fibsy snickered, but suppressed it at once, and said, “And he left the little dropper-thing beside your bed?”