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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　mystery　of　radiating　waves；　she　roused　a



great　tumult　in　his　heart；　shook　earth　and　sky　together　…　but　he



plodded　on。　　Then　like　a　grave　song…note　in　the　storm　her　voice



came　to　him　ominously。







〃Ah！　　Mr。　Renouard。　。　。　〃　　He　came　up　and　smiled；　but　she　was　very



serious。　　〃I　can't　keep　still　any　longer。　　Is　there　time　to　walk　up



this　headland　and　back　before　dark？〃







The　shadows　were　lying　lengthened　on　the　ground；　all　was　stillness



and　peace。　　〃No；〃　said　Renouard；　feeling　suddenly　as　steady　as　a



rock。　　〃But　I　can　show　you　a　view　from　the　central　hill　which　your



father　has　not　seen。　　A　view　of　reefs　and　of　broken　water　without



end；　and　of　great　wheeling　clouds　of　sea…birds。〃







She　came　down　the　verandah　steps　at　once　and　they　moved　off。　　〃You



go　first；〃　he　proposed；　〃and　I'll　direct　you。　　To　the　left。〃







She　was　wearing　a　short　nankin　skirt；　a　muslin　blouse；　he　could　see



through　the　thin　stuff　the　skin　of　her　shoulders；　of　her　arms。　　The



noble　delicacy　of　her　neck　caused　him　a　sort　of　transport。　　〃The



path　begins　where　these　three　palms　are。　　The　only　palms　on　the



island。〃







〃I　see。〃







She　never　turned　her　head。　　After　a　while　she　observed：　　〃This　path



looks　as　if　it　had　been　made　recently。〃







〃Quite　recently；〃　he　assented　very　low。







They　went　on　climbing　steadily　without　exchanging　another　word；　and



when　they　stood　on　the　top　she　gazed　a　long　time　before　her。　　The



low　evening　mist　veiled　the　further　limit　of　the　reefs。　　Above　the



enormous　and　melancholy　confusion；　as　of　a　fleet　of　wrecked



islands；　the　restless　myriads　of　sea…birds　rolled　and　unrolled　dark



ribbons　on　the　sky；　gathered　in　clouds；　soared　and　stooped　like　a



play　of　shadows；　for　they　were　too　far　for　them　to　hear　their



cries。







Renouard　broke　the　silence　in　low　tones。







〃They'll　be　settling　for　the　night　presently。〃　　She　made　no　sound。



Round　them　all　was　peace　and　declining　sunshine。　　Near　by；　the



topmost　pinnacle　of　Malata；　resembling　the　top　of　a　buried　tower；



rose　a　rock；　weather…worn；　grey；　weary　of　watching　the　monotonous



centuries　of　the　Pacific。　　Renouard　leaned　his　shoulders　against



it。　　Felicia　Moorsom　faced　him　suddenly；　her　splendid　black　eyes



full　on　his　face　as　though　she　had　made　up　her　mind　at　last　to



destroy　his　wits　once　and　for　all。　　Dazzled；　he　lowered　his　eyelids



slowly。







〃Mr。　Renouard！　　There　is　something　strange　in　all　this。　　Tell　me



where　he　is？〃







He　answered　deliberately。







〃On　the　other　side　of　this　rock。　　I　buried　him　there　myself。〃







She　pressed　her　hands　to　her　breast；　struggled　for　her　breath　for　a



moment；　then：　　〃Ohhh！　。　。　。　You　buried　him！　。　。　。　What　sort　of　man



are　you？　。　。　。　You　dared　not　tell！　。　。　。　He　is　another　of　your



victims？　。　。　。　You　dared　not　confess　that　evening。　。　。　。　You　must



have　killed　him。　　What　could　he　have　done　to　you？　。　。　。　You



fastened　on　him　some　atrocious　quarrel　and　。　。　。〃







Her　vengeful　aspect；　her　poignant　cries　left　him　as　unmoved　as　the



weary　rock　against　which　he　leaned。　　He　only　raised　his　eyelids　to



look　at　her　and　lowered　them　slowly。　　Nothing　more。　　It　silenced



her。　　And　as　if　ashamed　she　made　a　gesture　with　her　hand；　putting



away　from　her　that　thought。　　He　spoke；　quietly　ironic　at　first。







〃Ha！　the　legendary　Renouard　of　sensitive　idiots　…　the　ruthless



adventurer　…　the　ogre　with　a　future。　　That　was　a　parrot　cry；　Miss



Moorsom。　　I　don't　think　that　the　greatest　fool　of　them　all　ever



dared　hint　such　a　stupid　thing　of　me　that　I　killed　men　for　nothing。



No；　I　had　noticed　this　man　in　a　hotel。　　He　had　come　from　up　country



I　was　told；　and　was　doing　nothing。　　I　saw　him　sitting　there　lonely



in　a　corner　like　a　sick　crow；　and　I　went　over　one　evening　to　talk



to　him。　　Just　on　impulse。　　He　wasn't　impressive。　　He　was　pitiful。



My　worst　enemy　coul