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
  carried　his　parasol；　but　had　neither　his　book　nor　his　pipe　with
  him。　　Amiably　serious　he　laid　his　hand　on　his　〃dear　young　friend's〃
  arm。
  〃We　are　all　of　us　a　little　strung　up；〃　he　said。　　〃For　my　part　I
  have　been　like　sister　Anne　in　the　story。　　But　I　cannot　see　anything
  coming。　　Anything　that　would　be　the　least　good　for　anybody　…　I
  mean。〃
  Renouard　had　recovered　sufficiently　to　murmur　coldly　his　regret　of
  this　waste　of　time。　　For　that　was　what；　he　supposed；　the　professor
  had　in　his　mind。
  〃Time；〃　mused　Professor　Moorsom。　　〃I　don't　know　that　time　can　be
  wasted。　　But　I　will　tell　you；　my　dear　friend；　what　this　is：　　it　is
  an　awful　waste　of　life。　　I　mean　for　all　of　us。　　Even　for　my　sister；
  who　has　got　a　headache　and　is　gone　to　lie　down。〃
  He　shook　gently　Renouard's　arm。　　〃Yes；　for　all　of　us！　　One　may
  meditate　on　life　endlessly；　one　may　even　have　a　poor　opinion　of　it
  …　but　the　fact　remains　that　we　have　only　one　life　to　live。　　And　it
  is　short。　　Think　of　that；　my　young　friend。〃
  He　released　Renouard's　arm　and　stepped　out　of　the　shade　opening　his
  parasol。　　It　was　clear　that　there　was　something　more　in　his　mind
  than　mere　anxiety　about　the　date　of　his　lectures　for　fashionable
  audiences。　　What　did　the　man　mean　by　his　confounded　platitudes？　　To
  Renouard；　scared　by　Luiz　in　the　morning　（for　he　felt　that　nothing
  could　be　more　fatal　than　to　have　his　deception　unveiled　otherwise
  than　by　personal　confession）；　this　talk　sounded　like　encouragement
  or　a　warning　from　that　man　who　seemed　to　him　to　be　very　brazen　and
  very　subtle。　　It　was　like　being　bullied　by　the　dead　and　cajoled　by
  the　living　into　a　throw　of　dice　for　a　supreme　stake。
  Renouard　went　away　to　some　distance　from　the　house　and　threw
  himself　down　in　the　shade　of　a　tree。　　He　lay　there　perfectly　still
  with　his　forehead　resting　on　his　folded　arms；　light…headed　and
  thinking。　　It　seemed　to　him　that　he　must　be　on　fire；　then　that　he
  had　fallen　into　a　cool　whirlpool；　a　smooth　funnel　of　water　swirling
  about　with　nauseating　rapidity。　　And　then　（it　must　have　been　a
  reminiscence　of　his　boyhood）　he　was　walking　on　the　dangerous　thin
  ice　of　a　river；　unable　to　turn　back。　。　。　。　Suddenly　it　parted　from
  shore　to　shore　with　a　loud　crack　like　the　report　of　a　gun。
  With　one　leap　he　found　himself　on　his　feet。　　All　was　peace；
  stillness；　sunshine。　　He　walked　away　from　there　slowly。　　Had　he
  been　a　gambler　he　would　have　perhaps　been　supported　in　a　measure　by
  the　mere　excitement。　　But　he　was　not　a　gambler。　　He　had　always
  disdained　that　artificial　manner　of　challenging　the　fates。　　The
  bungalow　came　into　view；　bright　and　pretty；　and　all　about
  everything　was　peace；　stillness；　sunshine。　。　。　。
  While　he　was　plodding　towards　it　he　had　a　disagreeable　sense　of　the
  dead　man's　company　at　his　elbow。　　The　ghost！　　He　seemed　to　be
  everywhere　but　in　his　grave。　　Could　one　ever　shake　him　off？　he
  wondered。　　At　that　moment　Miss　Moorsom　came　out　on　the　verandah；
  and　at　once；　as　if　by　a　my