The Ghost by Arnold Bennet Chapter 7 Page 16

but I could do neither. I trembled before this mysterious man. My frame literally shook. I knew what fear was. I was a coward.

At length he turned away, casting at me as he did so one indefinable look, and with slow dignity passed again down the length of the nave and disappeared. Then, and not till then, I found my voice and my courage. I pulled the priest by the sleeve of his cassock.

“Some one has just been in the cathedral,” I said huskily. And I told him what I had seen.

“Impossible! Retro me, Sathanas! It was imagination.”

His tone was dry, harsh.

“No, no,” I said eagerly. “I assure you� .”

He smiled incredulously, and repeated the word “Imagination!”

But I well knew that it was not imagination, that I had actually seen this man enter and go forth.