Reverend Fludd inhaled with audible effort, raised a trembling crucifix and searched for his place. “I command you, unclean spirit … whoever you are …”

“Tosh, Jonas, you know who I am,” Mr. West interrupted. “Now pay attention, because I have something to tell you about Major Tor.” Then he paused a little too long. Lord Tor snorted; West was just as infuriating as he always was.

“Your father, and your husband, is at peace. He’s gone on ahead. I know this absolutely; I saw him across the threshold myself. As for you, sir,” he addressed the Reverend, "Your dronings had nothing to do with it. You think a spirit is a nuisance to be got rid of. You’re wrong. It’s an emotional being to cherish and, at the right time, to guide.

“As for me, I’ve often imagined strolling here. And, now,” he chuckled, "Now I am free to come and go as I please.”

The lace curtains shifted in a breeze, and what had seemed to be Mr. West was just a fleeting shadow.

“Yet no more welcome,” Eustace murmured, grinning.