curly, her
shoe-buckles sparkled, her patent leathers were spotless, whilst the
cloth of her coat and skirt looked as sheeny as if they had but just
come from Keeley's.

Anxious to get another look at her face, I quickened my pace, and,
darting past her, gazed straight into her countenance. The result was
a severe shock. The terror of what I saw--the ghastly horror of her
dead white face--sent me reeling across the pavement. I let her pass
me, and, impelled by a sickly fascination, followed in her wake.

Outside a jeweller's stood a hansom--quite a curiosity in these days
of motors--and, as Jane glided past, the horse shied. I have never
seen an animal so terrified. We went on, and at the next crossing
halted. A policeman had his hand up checking the traffic. His glance
fell on Jane--the effect was electrical. His eyes bulged, his cheeks
whitened, his chest heaved, his hand dropped, and he would undoubtedly
have fallen had not a good Samaritan, in the guise of a non-psychical
public-house loafer, held him up. Jane was now close to the chemist's,
and it was with a sigh of relief that I saw her glide in and
disappear.

Had there been any doubt at all, after my first encounter with Jane,
as to her being superphysical, there was certainly none now. The
policeman's paroxysm of fear and the horse's fit of shying were facts.
What had produced them? I alone knew--and I knew for certain--it was
Jane. Both man and animal saw what I saw. Hence the phantom was not
subjective; it was not illusionary; it was a _bona fide_ spirit
manifestation--a visitant from the other world--the world of
earthbound souls. Jane fascinated me. I made endless researches in
connection with her, and, in answer to one of my inquiries, I was
informed that eighteen years ago--that is to say, about the time
Jane's dress was in fashion--the chemist's shop had been occupied by a
dressmaker of the name of Bosworth. I hunted up Miss Bosworth's
address and called on her. She had retired from business and was
living in St. Michael's Road, Bournemouth. I came to the point
straight.

"Can you give me any information," I asked, "about a lady whose
Christian name was Jane?"

"That sounds vague!" Miss Bosworth said. "I've met a good many Janes
in my time."

"But not Janes with pale yellow hair, and white eyebrows and
eyelashes!" And I described her in detail.

"How do you come to know about her?" Miss Bosworth said, after a long
pause.

"Because," I replie