"It's simply this: the--Thing I saw was the condemned soul of that Archibald Armstrong. Who he may have been I don't know; but I can't help believing that my ancestor knew him when he was still in the flesh. They had a feud, perhaps--maybe about this very marriage--of course you understand I'm only supposing a case. Well, Calbot gets the better of his rival, and is married. Then Armstrong exerts his malignant ingenuity to set them at odds with each other. He may have played on the superstitious fancies which they probably shared with others of that age, and at last we may suppose he accomplished their separation." "An ingenious idea," I admitted, "but what about your date?" "Why, on hearing of his death, they would naturally suppose all danger over, and that they might live together unmolested. And from this point you may differ with me or not, as you choose. I believe that it was only after Armstrong was dead that his power for evil became commensurate with his will. I believe, Drayton," said Calbot, drawing himself up to his full height, and emphasising his words with the slow gesture of his right arm, "that the soul of that dead man haunted that wretched couple from the day of his death until the whole tragedy was consummated--until the woman died and the man went mad. And I believe that his devilish malignity has lived on to this day, and wreaked itself, a second time, on Miss Burleigh and myself." There was a short pause, during which my poor friend stood tapping one foot on the hearth-rug, his eyes bent downwards in sombre abstraction. "Look here, my dear John," I said at length, speaking with an effort, for there was a sensation of heavy oppression on my chest; "listen to me, old fellow. You've had time to cool down and bethink yourself: so far as I can judge you appear, as you say, neither crazy nor intoxicated. Now I wish you, remembering that we are sensible, enlightened men, living in London in this year 1875, to tell me honestly whether I am to understand you as deliberately asserting a belief in visitations from the other world. Because, really, you know, that is what anyone would infer from the way you have been talking this evening." "I see there would be little use, Drayton, in my answering your question directly; but I will give you a deliberate and honest account of my personal experiences during these last two days: there will be no danger of your mistaking my meaning then. You won't mind my walking up and down the room while I'm speaking, will you? The subject is a painful one, and motion seems to make it easier, somehow." I did mind it very much, it made me as nervous as a water-beetle; but, of course, I forbore to say so, and Calbot went on: