determination.

"I'd rather be boloed than tell you," he said. "Perhaps, after all, I
_am_ a lunatic; perhaps I've had a touch of the Luzon sun and don't know
it."

"I'll be the judge," said the Tracer, smiling.

"Very well, sir. Then I'll begin by telling you that I've seen a ghost."

"There are such things," observed Keen quietly.

"Oh, I don't mean one of those fabled sheeted creatures that float about
at night; I mean a phantom--a real phantom--in the sunlight--standing
before my very eyes in broad day! . . . Now do you feel inclined to go
on with my case, Mr. Keen?"

"Certainly," replied the Tracer gravely. "Please continue, Captain
Harren."

"All right, then. Here's the beginning of it: Three years ago, here in
New York, drifting along Fifth Avenue with the crowd, I looked up to
encounter the most wonderful pair of eyes that I ever beheld--that any
living man ever beheld! The most--wonderfully--beautiful--"

He sat so long immersed in retrospection that the Tracer said: "I am
listening, Captain," and the Captain woke up with a start.

"What was I saying? How far had I proceeded?"