A Thin Ghost

A Thin Ghost and Others, by M.
R. (Montague

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(Montague Rhodes) James
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Title: A Thin Ghost and Others
Author: M. R. (Montague Rhodes) James

Release Date: January 16, 2007 [eBook #20387]
Language: English
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A THIN GHOST AND OTHERS
by
MONTAGUE RHODES JAMES, LITT.D.
Provost Of Eton College Author of "Ghost Stories of an Antiquary,"
"More Ghost Stories," etc.
Third Impression

New York Longmans, Green & Co. London: Edward Arnold 1920 (All
rights reserved)

PREFACE
Two of these stories, the third and fourth, have appeared in print in the
Cambridge Review, and I wish to thank the proprietor for permitting
me to republish them here.
I have had my doubts about the wisdom of publishing a third set of
tales; sequels are, not only proverbially but actually, very hazardous
things. However, the tales make no pretence but to amuse, and my
friends have not seldom asked for the publication. So not a great deal is
risked, perhaps, and perhaps also some one's Christmas may be the
cheerfuller for a storybook which, I think, only once mentions the war.

CONTENTS
PAGE
THE RESIDENCE AT WHITMINSTER 1
THE DIARY OF MR. POYNTER 49

AN EPISODE OF CATHEDRAL HISTORY 73
THE STORY OF A DISAPPEARANCE AND AN APPEARANCE
107
TWO DOCTORS 135

THE RESIDENCE AT WHITMINSTER

A Thin Ghost and Others
THE RESIDENCE AT WHITMINSTER
Dr. Ashton--Thomas Ashton, Doctor of Divinity--sat in his study,
habited in a dressing-gown, and with a silk cap on his shaven head--his
wig being for the time taken off and placed on its block on a side table.
He was a man of some fifty-five years, strongly made, of a sanguine
complexion, an angry eye, and a long upper lip. Face and eye were
lighted up at the moment when I picture him by the level ray of an
afternoon sun that shone in upon him through a tall sash window,
giving on the west. The room into which it shone was also tall, lined
with book-cases, and, where the wall showed between them, panelled.
On the table near the doctor's elbow was a green cloth, and upon it
what he would have called a silver standish--a tray with
inkstands--quill pens, a calf-bound book or two, some papers, a
churchwarden pipe and brass tobacco-box, a flask cased in plaited
straw, and a liqueur glass. The year was 1730, the month December,
the hour somewhat past three in the afternoon.
I have described in these lines pretty much all that a superficial
observer would have noted when he looked into the room. What met Dr.
Ashton's eye when he looked out of it, sitting in his leather arm-chair?
Little more than the tops of the shrubs and fruit-trees of his garden
could be seen from that point, but the red brick wall of it was visible in
almost all the length of its western side. In the middle of that was a

gate--a double gate of rather elaborate iron scroll-work, which allowed
something of a view beyond. Through it he could see that the ground
sloped away almost at once to a bottom, along which a stream must run,
and rose steeply from it on the other side, up to a field that was
park-like in character, and thickly studded with oaks, now, of course,
leafless. They did not stand so thick together but that some glimpse of
sky and horizon could be seen between their stems. The sky was now
golden and the horizon, a horizon of distant woods, it seemed, was
purple.
But all that Dr. Ashton could find to say, after contemplating this
prospect for many minutes, was: "Abominable!"
A listener would have been aware, immediately upon this, of the sound
of footsteps coming somewhat hurriedly in the direction of the study:
by the resonance he could have told that they were traversing a much
larger room. Dr. Ashton turned round in his chair as the door opened,
and looked expectant. The incomer was a lady--a stout lady in the dress
of the time: though I have made some attempt at indicating the doctor's
costume, I will not enterprise that of his wife--for it was Mrs. Ashton
who now entered. She had an anxious, even a sorely distracted, look,
and it was in a very disturbed voice