"And Miss Thornycroft put on mourning for him, making believe it was for Lady Ellis, who died close upon it," cried Mrs. Copp, too impatient to allow Anna to continue. "And the worst is, that he can't rest in his grave, poor fellow, but hovers atop of it night after night, so that Coastdown dare not go by the churchyard, and the folks have made a way right across the heath to avoid it, breaking through two hedges and a stone fence that belongs to Lord What's-his-name--who's safe, it's said, to indict the parish for trespass. Scores of folks saw the ghost. Anna saw it. My son Sam saw it, and he's not one to be taken in by a ghost; though he did think once he saw a mermaid, and will die, poor fellow, in the belief. Robert Hunter not dead, indeed! He was barbarously murdered, ma'am." "It is the most astounding tale I ever heard," cried the bewildered Mrs. Macpherson. "What was the ghost like?" "Like himself, ma'am. Perhaps you knew a coat he had? An ugly white thing garnished with black fur?" "I had only too good cause to know it!" shrieked out Mrs. Macpherson, aroused at the mention. "That blessed prefessor of mine bought it and gave it him; was _took in_ to buy it. He's the greatest duffer in everyday life that ever stood upright." "Then it always appeared in that coat. For that was what he had on when he was murdered." "Well, I never! I shall think we are in the world of departed spirits next. This beats table-rapping. Why, he brought that very coat on his arm when he came on the Sunday to dine with us! The nights were cold again." "And the real veritable coat has been lying ever since at the public-house where he was carried to. It's there now, stiff in its folds," eagerly avowed Mrs. Copp. "Ma'am, what you saw at your house here must have been a vision--himself and the coat too." Mrs. Macpherson began to doubt her own identity. The second coat never crossed her mind. It happened that she had not looked into the lumber closet after it, and could have been upon her oath, if asked, that it was there still. Her hot face assumed a strange look of dubious bewilderment. "It never surely could have been his ghost that came here and dined with us!" debated she. "Ghosts don't eat salmon and drink champagne." "I don't know what they might do if put to it," cried Mrs. Copp, sharply. "One thing you may rely upon, ma'am--that it was not himself." "The prefessor doesn't believe in ghosts. He says there is no such things. I'm free to confess that I've never seen any." "Neither did I believe before this," said Mrs. Copp. "But one has to bend to the evidence of one's senses."