"How long are you going to stay here?" I demanded at last.
"Not long," he answered. "Only until that light goes out over yonder."
He nodded toward one of the upper windows of the Magnus house. Even as
I looked at it, the light disappeared.
"Now," he said, "we'd better be moving up a little closer, Lester.
Around this way, so we can't be seen from the door."
"You mean you think somebody is coming out of that house?"
"Certainly. The ghost's coming out. You didn't expect him to stay
there all night, did you? That would be a little--well--indelicate,
don't you think?"
"But how--"
"How am I going to see him? Well, I think I'll see him all right.
Besides, the money would be visible, wouldn't it? Or does it become
invisible when the ghost puts it in his pocket?"
"The cigar was invisible," I said weakly, "and the pen."
Really, out here with Godfrey, it _did_ seem pretty ridiculous.
I was going to say something more--perhaps to try to excuse myself for
my credulity--but Godfrey silenced me with a gesture. We had crept
along in the shadow of the adjoining building until we were beside the
entrance to the Magnus house.
"Maybe he'll go out the back way," I breathed.
"There isn't any back way. All built up. It's this way, or none."
The thought occurred to me that a brick wall would make no difference
to a spirit, but I felt that I was lapsing into a state of imbecility,
and stood silent, shivering a little. For it had started to drizzle
again.
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