The Ghost of Ben Gant

Ben told me he had to go and walk to the door quickly. He must have died a year or so after his uncle Bernard. I let ten minutes pass and then I stepped out into the cold. There were flurries falling lightly as a snowstorm moved in from the north. Far away I could see the dim glow of lights on the side of Route 41. It was seventy-five yards across the Marclay property which was cut off from the adjacent property by a tall screen of trees. This one was in a state of total disrepair, having been abandoned some time ago.