Rafael Sabatini,
The Tapestried Room
(1913)
“ I cried out, whilst Edgeworth swore. He swung round in the firelit gloom, and closed the windows once more. I sat huddled in my chair, scarcely breathing, whilst he thrust a spill into the fire, and one by one, relighted the candles. His hand shook a little, and his face was undoubtedly pale. Nevertheless—"Come, come, Dennison! What the devil ails you?" he cried. "It's a fine ghost-hunter you are!" ”
