One balmy summer evening I was sitting next to him in the front seat as he drove us there and the window-winding handle beside me started revolving all by itself, and wound the window down right to the bottom.
I sat and watched it, assuming that this was a normal sort of thing in an old car like that.
'How did you do that?' gasped Mr Valentine, 'That handle's been stuck fast ever since I got this car and I haven't been able to move it at all!'.
I hadn't touched it.
Do you think it was a ghost?