over in her mind profound thoughts about that man sitting at her
feet, his shoulders bowed a little, his hands listless - as if

vanquished. And, indeed, the moral poison of falsehood has such a
decomposing power that Renouard felt his old personality turn to

dead dust. Often, in the evening, when they sat outside conversing
languidly in the dark, he felt that he must rest his forehead on

her feet and burst into tears.
The professor's sister suffered from some little strain caused by

the unstability of her own feelings toward Renouard. She could not
tell whether she really did dislike him or not. At times he

appeared to her most fascinating; and, though he generally ended by
saying something shockingly crude, she could not resist her

inclination to talk with him - at least not always. One day when
her niece had left them alone on the verandah she leaned forward in

her chair - speckless, resplendent, and, in her way, almost as
striking a personality as her niece, who did not resemble her in

the least. "Dear Felicia has inherited her hair and the greatest
part of her appearance from her mother," the maiden lady used to

tell people.
She leaned forward then, confidentially.

"Oh! Mr. Renouard! Haven't you something comforting to say?"
He looked up, as surprised as if a voice from heaven had spoken

with this perfect society intonation, and by the puzzled profundity
of his blue eyes fluttered the wax-flower of refined womanhood.

She continued. "For - I can speak to you openly on this tiresome
subject - only think what a terrible strain this hope deferred must

be for Felicia's heart - for her nerves."
"Why speak to me about it," he muttered feeling half choked

suddenly.
"Why! As a friend - a well-wisher - the kindest of hosts. I am

afraid we are really eating you out of house and home." She
laughed a little. "Ah! When, when will this suspense be relieved!

That poor lost Arthur! I confess that I am almost afraid of the
great moment. It will be like seeing a ghost."

"Have you ever seen a ghost?" asked Renouard, in a dull voice.
She shifted her hands a little. Her pose was perfect in its ease

and middle-aged grace.
"Not actually. Only in a photograph. But we have many friends who

had the experience of apparitions."
"Ah! They see ghosts in London," mumbled Renouard, not looking at

her.
"Frequently - in a certain very interesting set. But all sorts of

people do. We have a friend, a very famous author - his ghost is a
girl. One of my brother's intimates is a very great man of

science. He is friendly with a ghost . . . Of a girl too," she
added in a voice as if struck for the first time by the

coincidence. "It is the photograph of that apparition which I have
seen. Very sweet. Most interesting. A little cloudy naturally. .

. . Mr. Renouard! I hope you are not a sceptic. It's so consoling
to think. . ."

"Those plantation boys of mine see ghosts too," said Renouard
grimly.

The sister of the philosopher sat up stiffly. What crudeness! It
was always so with this strange young man.

"Mr. Renouard! How can you compare the superstitious fancies of
your horrible savages with the manifestations . . . "

Words failed her. She broke off with a very faint primly angry
smile. She was perhaps the more offended with him because of that

flutter at the beginning of the conversation. And in a moment with
perfect tact and dignity she got up from her chair and left him

alone.
Renouard didn't even look up. It was not the displeasure of the

lady which deprived him of his sleep that night. He was beginning
to forget what simple, honest sleep was like. His hammock from the

ship had been hung for him on a side verandah, and he spent his
nights in it on his back, his hands folded on his chest, in a sort

of half conscious, oppressed stupor. In the morning he watched
with unseeing eyes the headland come out a shapeless inkblot

against the thin light of the false dawn, pass through all the
stages of daybreak to the deep purple of its outlined mass nimbed

gloriously with the gold of the rising sun. He listened to the
vague sounds of waking within the house: and suddenly he became

aware of Luiz standing by the hammock - obviously troubled.
"What's the matter?"

"Tse! Tse! Tse!"
"Well, what now? Trouble with the boys?"

"No, master. The gentleman when I take him his bath water he speak
to me. He ask me - he ask - when, when, I think Mr. Walter, he

come back."
The half-caste's teeth chattered slightly. Renouard got out of the

hammock.
"And he is here all the time - eh?"

Luiz nodded a scared affirmative, but at once protested, "I no see
him. I never. Not I! The ignorant wild boys say they see . . .

Something! Ough!"
He clapped his teeth on another short rattle, and stood there,

shrunk, blighted, like a man in a freezing blast.
"And what did you say to the gentleman?"

"I say I don't know - and I clear out. I - I don't like to speak
of him."

"All right. We shall try to lay that poor ghost," said Renouard
gloomily, going off to a small hut near by to dress. He was saying

to himself: "This fellow will end by giving me away. The last
thing that I . . . No! That mustn't be." And feeling his hand

being forced he discovered the whole extent of his cowardice.
CHAPTER X

That morning wandering about his plantation, more like a frightened
soul than its creator and master, he dodged the white parasol

bobbing up here and there like a buoy adrift on a sea of dark-green
plants. The crop promised to be magnificent, and the fashionable

philosopher of the age took other than a merely scientific interest
in the experiment. His investments were judicious, but he had

always some little money lying by, for experiments.
After lunch, being left alone with Renouard, he talked a little of

cultivation and such matters. Then suddenly:
"By the way, is it true what my sister tells me, that your

plantation boys have been disturbed by a ghost?"
Renouard, who since the ladies had left the table was not keeping

such a strict watch on himself, came out of his abstraction with a
start and a stiff smile.

"My foreman had some trouble with them during my absence. They
funk working in a certain field on the slope of the hill."

"A ghost here!" exclaimed the amused professor. "Then our whole
conception of the psychology of ghosts must be revised. This

island has been uninhabited probably since the dawn of ages. How
did a ghost come here. By air or water? And why did it leave its

native haunts. Was it from misanthropy? Was he expelled from some
community of spirits?"

Renouard essayed to respond in the same tone. The words died on
his lips. Was it a man or a woman ghost, the professor inquired.

"I don't know." Renouard made an effort to appear at ease. He
had, he said, a couple of Tahitian amongst his boys - a ghost-

ridden race. They had started the scare. They had probably
brought their ghost with them.

"Let us investigate the matter, Renouard," proposed the professor
half in earnest. "We may make some interesting discoveries as to

the state of primitive minds, at any rate."
This was too much. Renouard jumped up and leaving the room went

out and walked about in front of the house. He would allow no one
to force his hand. Presently the professor joined him outside. He