There we were
preparing to cross over, when an elderly gentleman walked deliberately
into her. I half expected to hear him apologise, but naturally nothing
of the sort happened; she was only too obviously a phantom, and, in
accordance with the nature of a phantom, she passed right through him.
A few yards farther on, she came to an abrupt pause, and then, with a
slight inclination of her head as if meaning me to follow, she glided
into a chemist's shop. She was certainly not more than six feet ahead
of me when she passed through the door, and I was even nearer than
that to her when she suddenly disappeared as she stood before the
counter. I asked the chemist if he could tell me anything about the
lady who had just entered his shop, but he merely turned away and
laughed.
"Lady!" he said; "what are you talking about? You're a bit out of your
reckoning. This isn't the first of April. Come, what do you want?"
I bought a bottle of formamints, and reluctantly and regretfully
turned away. That night I dreamed I again saw the ghost. I followed
her up George Street just as I had done in reality; but when she came
to the chemist's shop, she turned swiftly round. "I'm Jane!" she said
in a hollow voice. "Jane! Only Jane!" and with that name ringing in my
ears I awoke.
Some days elapsed before I was in George Street again. The weather had
in the meanwhile undergone one of those sudden and violent changes, so
characteristic of the Scottish climate.
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