of smoke! I had forgotten my number, I think; anyhow, I remember
going into several bedrooms--it was lucky I was the only soul
in that wing--until I saw my traps. 'Here we are,' I said, and sat
down in the arm-chair; 'sit down and tell me all about it. It seems
to me you have got yourself into a jolly awkward position, old chap.'

"Well, he said he wouldn't sit down! he'd prefer to flit up and down
the room if it was all the same to me. And so he did, and in a little
while we were deep in a long and serious talk. And presently,
you know, something of those whiskies and sodas evaporated out of me,
and I began to realise just a little what a thundering rum and weird
business it was that I was in. There he was, semi-transparent--
the proper conventional phantom, and noiseless except for his ghost
of a voice--flitting to and fro in that nice, clean, chintz-hung
old bedroom. You could see the gleam of the copper candlesticks
through him, and the lights on the brass fender, and the corners
of the framed engravings on the wall,--and there he was telling me
all about this wretched little life of his that had recently ended
on earth. He hadn't a particularly honest face, you know, but being
transparent, of course, he couldn't avoid telling the truth."

"Eh?" said Wish, suddenly sitting up in his chair.

"What?" said Clayton.

"Being transparent--couldn't avoid telling the truth--I don't see it,"
said Wish.

"_I_ don't see it," said Clayton, with inimitable assurance. "But
it IS so, I can assure you nevertheless. I don't believe he got once