In the process of recalling my college days, I am reminded of that momentous occasion during my first year at St Montague's, when, by some irksome and malign fate, I discovered myself sharing the confines of the school library with three well-read scholars of that time. These loathsome fellows I normally would avoid at all costs, but owing to the atrocious February weather I was compelled to gain welcome warmth beside that roaring fire.

"What is your name, young chap?" I was asked, by a large scholar wearing a three-piece suit of pin-stripes. His enquiry wore a ghastly cloak of supposed superiority and rank, which I kind of expected, as I was a mere first year student at that particular time.

"Grim Shaw," I told him, and as I uttered my name I surveyed the three pairs of beady eyes which were fixed upon my being. I detected a vast amount of arrogance beyond those staring sockets.

"A common name," sneered the fellow, whose own name I knew to be Rhodes-Fotheringham. As I have mentioned, he was large, with a reddened, chubby face and whiskers that hid his stiff upper lip completely. It appeared as if he owned the bottom one only, and I reckoned this to be quite comical, although I dared not to chuckle in their presence.

"Well, Grim Shaw," snarled the second chap, whose name was Blake, and who was exactly as tiresome as Rhodes-Fotheringham, "my chums and I were in the process of recounting horrific tales of ghosts and apparitions. If you wish to remain in our company, you must endure this."

"And not go fleeing from the room in fright!" added the third monster, a scoundrel by the name of Atkinson.

I endeavored not to be afraid, which was not a simple task, as the trio themselves were sufficient to cause a shivering sensation inside me. We were all seated, with discreet distances between each, in huge Victorian armchairs facing the blazing flames of the log fire. The library itself was enormous, and must have contained thousands of books on all subjects. Including the topic of ghosts.

"I remember one chap," said Rhodes-Fotheringham, a cigar of eager proportions in his ample hand, "whose name I cannot recall. He regularly encountered the ghostly figure of an old man in a pale-colored nightgown, who was prone to walking up and down the stairs of the chap's home, and with his head held under his arm!"

Excessive gasps left the mouths of Blake and Atkinson, whilst I myself remained silent and breathless. Rhodes-Fotheringham's features became hidden in the midst of an awful-smelling cloud of cigar smoke, providing an eerie vision of his face, and at that moment I wondered whether he himself was a dreadful phantom.

"Anyway," he continued, with the smoke drifting in the direction of the fireplace, "this chap could stand it no longer and subsequently decided to take his own life by shooting himself in the head with a pistol. Now it is rumored that he himself haunts that house."

His two companions seemed quite unsettled by this story, and as the flames crackled in the hearth they each took a copious mouthful of the brandy that was readily available nearby. Then Blake appeared to decide that he was not to be outdone by his friend.

"That is a pretty gruesome tale, old chap," he said in a quavering voice, "but allow me to relate the story of the man whose wife gave birth to an apparition."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Rhodes-Fotheringham, with peculiar puffed cheeks. He appeared to be somewhat perturbed by Blake's proclamation, and I noticed how agitated he became as his companion continued the tale.

"It is indeed true," said Blake, who, in contrast to Rhodes-Fotheringham, was of a thin shape, and was clutching his brandy glass tightly the whole time. "This apparition grew to a fine old age, until he reached a maturity he could not improve on, and now he haunts the church in which his parents had married."

Again, a strange air filled the room, and an odd nervousness prevailed in the three figures that flanked me. I remember thinking how chilling and sinister were those three fellows, to the point where I began to feel rather frightened me. However, I attempted not to reveal this, as I sat with clenched fists upon that armchair, gazing into the leaping flames opposite my position in that library.

"That is an impressive story," said Atkinson. I had never seen a chap as tall and gangly as he was. His weird-looking legs protruded from that chair, stretched out before him like two huge clothes-props, and behind his gold-rimmed spectacles I observed the most evil pair of grey eyes.#p#分页标题#e#

"What about this then, chaps," he said, grasping the opportunity to tell his own grotesque tale. "A soldier in the Great War was lurking in the trenches, with bullets whizzing around his ears, when suddenly he noticed beside him his own ghost. It was identical in every detail, and he was naturally astonished. Seconds later this poor chap was struck in the head by an enemy shot, and was killed instantly. But strangely, he recalls then holding his own dying figure in his arms, for he had taken over the form of the apparition that was beside him!"

"My good God!" cried Rhodes-Fotheringham, with an obvious alarm.

I then looked at Blake, who appeared so petrified he was speechless. I found it quite odd that these three chaps knew so much about ghosts. They seemed to be more than mere students of the college, and indeed I morbidly started to fear what exactly they were. However, I quickly dismissed these thoughts, and seized the chance to reveal some ideas of my own.

"This is all preposterous!" I shouted above the blaze of the fire.

"What?" demanded Blake, who suddenly regained his powers of speech upon hearing my unwelcome exclamation.

"I have never hap that saw the ghost on the stairs. How do you know this if he shot himself? The same with the soldier in the war. He was dead just seconds after supposedly seeing his own ghost, so how do you know this? And as for the fellow whose wife gave birth to a phantom. That is pure drivel of the finest water!"

Rhodes-Fotheringham was in such an intolerable rage that I thought he would explode before my eyes, and the other two were not far behind in their ire. Each of them was blazing more intensely than the fire was!

"Get out of here!" yelled Rhodes-Fotheringham in a tremendous, booming voice. "And do not return! You are far from worthy of our company!"

This request -- or rather, this command -- seemed quite popular amongst the three of them, and so it was with a trembling demeanor that I proceeded to leave the library. A chilling silence ensued as I slowly stepped away from them and the fireplace. However, I believe I succeeded in astounding my trio of companions, for I departed from that room without opening the door.

回忆我在圣·蒙塔格大学的生活，我总是会想到我在那的第一年时发生的这件事。当时，我非常郁闷得发现我得和三个当时看来很博学的学生共享图书馆。若在平时，我会不惜一切代价躲避这些讨厌的家伙，但那年二月的天气实在是太糟糕了，我不得不呆在壁炉旁，享受那熊熊旺火的温暖。

“你叫什么名字，小伙子？”一个穿着高大的排扣三件套西服的学生问。他询问的语气仿佛都透着股优越感和居高临下的感觉，这个我早有心理准备，因为当时我还只是个新生而已。

“格里姆·肖。”我回答。我看到三双犀利的眼睛正盯着我瞧。从他们的眼神中，我能感觉到强烈的傲慢。

“名字真俗。”一个家伙嘲笑道，我后来知道他的名字是拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆。我说过，他的个子很高，面色发红，满是赘肉，上嘴唇完全被浓密的胡须盖住，看起来就像他只长了下嘴唇似的。我觉得这真是太滑稽了，但又不敢在他们面前笑。

“好吧，格里姆·肖，”另一个和拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆一样讨厌的叫布莱克的家伙说，“我和哥们儿们正在讲恐怖的鬼故事。如果你想和我们一起呆在这的话，那你就必须忍耐。”

“而且即使害怕也不许从这个房间跑出去。”第三个叫阿特肯森的无赖补充说。

我努力抑制自己的恐慌，但这还不是我要面对的惟一的任务，因为这三个人也足以让我内心打颤了。我们都坐在面向炽热的炉火的维多利亚式靠背椅上，彼此间保持一定距离。图书馆很大，有关于各种主题的几千本图书，当然，也有关于鬼魂的书。

拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆的大手里拿着根雪茄，说：“我记得有个人，他的名字我不记得了。他经常能看到一个穿着浅色睡衣的鬼影，那鬼影总在他家楼梯上上上下下来回走，胳膊下夹着自己的头!”

布莱克和阿特肯森开始大口喘息，而我则不敢出声，摒住呼吸。拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆的脸掩在呛人的雪茄烟雾后，让他看起来有种奇异的虚幻感，那一刻，我都有点觉得他本身就是个可怕的鬼魂了。

“最后，”他继续讲着，吐出的雪茄烟雾向着壁炉的方向飘去，“那家伙再也受不了，就饮弹自尽了，现在有谣言说他的鬼魂就在那房子里出没。”

另外两个人听了他的故事都显得很不安，壁炉炉膛里传出噼噼啪啪的木柴燃烧的声音，他们都拿起身边的白兰地，大大地吞了一口。布莱克觉得自己不应该输给朋友。

“哥们，这故事真是可怕。”他颤着声说：“但请听我讲讲另外一个人的事，他老婆生了个鬼怪。”

“天呀!”拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆喊道。他脸上的肉松垮垮的，他像是被布莱克的话吓到了，我注意到当布莱克讲故事的时候，他变得越来越不安。#p#分页标题#e#

“这是个真实的故事。”布莱克说。和拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆不同，他长得很瘦弱，讲故事的时候手里一直紧握着白兰地酒杯。“那鬼怪一直长到它成熟为止，现在，它就在它父母当年结婚的那家教堂出没。”

房间里的氛围再次变得很奇怪，坐在我身边的三个人有种怪异的紧张感。我还记得当时他们的神情是多么害怕慌张，那神情让我觉得很害怕。但我努力不把这种害怕表现出来，于是我坐在扶手椅上，紧握双拳，紧盯着对面壁炉里跳动的火焰。

阿特肯森说：“这故事真是吓人。”我从没见过像他那样又瘦又高的人。他那看起来怪怪的双腿从椅子前突出来，像两根晒衣绳支架似的。透过他的那副金边眼镜，我看见一双至为邪恶的灰色的眼睛。

他抓紧机会讲自己的灵异故事，说：“伙计们，你们听听这个怎么样。第一次世界大战时，有个士兵潜伏在战壕里，子弹在他耳边呼啸而过。突然他看到了自己的魂魄，跟他长得一模一样，他自然感到很惊讶了。几秒钟后，他就被敌军的子弹击中头部，当场死亡。但奇怪的是，他记得当时是他自己抱着自己的尸体，因为他已经附身在身边的另一个鬼魂身上了！”

“我的老天！” 拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆喊道，声音里明显带着惊恐。

我看了看布莱克，他已经被吓呆了，说不出话来。我觉得很奇怪，这三个人居然知道这么多关于鬼魂的故事，看起来他们不单只是大学学生，我突然对他们的真实身份感到很害怕。但我马上把这些念头挥去，抓紧机会说出我的观点。

“这些都太荒谬了。”我喊道。

“什么?”布莱克问，听到我这不怎么讨人喜欢的话后，他似乎又有了说话的力气。

“我从没在楼梯上见过什么鬼魂，再说，如果他是自杀的，你们又怎么知道这个故事？那个士兵的故事也一样，如果他在看到自己的魂魄几秒钟之后就死掉了，你又怎么知道？至于那个老婆生了个鬼怪的人，简直是满嘴胡话！”

拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆变得怒不可遏，仿佛就要在我面前气炸了似的。其他两个人也气坏了，看起来，他们的怒火比壁炉里的火还要旺许多！

“滚出去！”拉霍斯·佛斯林汉姆大声地喊道：“你不配和我们呆在一起！”

看起来这个请求，或者说这个命令是他们三个人一致认同的，所以我只好战战兢兢得离开了图书馆。我从他们身边和温暖的炉火旁离开的时候，身后一片死寂。但我确信我吓到了我这三个伙伴，因为我不用打开门就从房间里消失不见了。