my _début_ in this haunt of spirits, Borkins. Consider my nerves. India's
made a hash of 'em. Get back to bed, man, and don't worry over my
investigations. I swear I won't venture out, to-night at any rate.
Perhaps to-morrow I may have summoned up enough courage, but I've no
fancy for funerals yet awhile. So you can keep your pleasant little
reminiscences for another time, and I'll give you my word of honour that
I'll do nothing rash!"

Borkins gave a sigh of relief. He passed his hand over his forehead, and
his eyes--rather shifty, rather narrow, pale blue eyes which Merriton had
instinctively disliked (he couldn't tell why)--lightened suddenly.

"Thank Gawd for that, sir!" he said, solemnly. "You've relieved my
mind on that score. I've always thought--your poor uncle, Sir Joseph
Merriton--and those flames there might 'ave been the reason for his
disappearance, though of course--"

"What's that?" Merriton turned round and looked at him, his brow
furrowed, the whole personality of the man suddenly awake. "My uncle,
Borkins? How long have these--er--lights been seen hereabouts? I don't
remember them as a child."

"Oh, mostly always, I believe, sir; though they ain't been much noticed
before the last four years," replied Borkins. "I think--yes--come August
next. Four years--was the first time my attention was called to 'em."

Merriton's laugh held a note of relief.

"Then you needn't have worried. My uncle has been missing for a little
more than _five_ years, and that, therefore, when he did disappear the