"Stop, sir," said Woodward, "whoever or whatever you are--stop, I wish
to speak with you; be you mortal or spiritual, I fear you not--only
stop."
The being before him, however, walked on at the same slow and solemn
pace, but still persisted in maintaining his distance. Woodward was
resolute, fearless--a sceptic, an infidel, a materialist--but here was a
walking proposition in his presence which he could not solve, and which,
up to that point, at least, had set all his theories at defiance. His
blood rose--he became annoyed at the strange silence of the being before
him, but more still at the mysterious and tardy pace with which it
seemed to precede and escape him.
[Illustration: PAGE 652-- I will follow it until morning]
"I will follow it until morning," he said to himself, "or else I shall
develop this startling enigma."
At this moment his mysterious fellow-traveller, after having advanced as
if there had not been such an individual as Woodward in existence, now
stood; he was directly opposite the haunted house, and turning round,
faced the tantalized and bewildered mortal.
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