ber?' I said; and just to show I didn't care a pin for him I stepped through a corner of him and made to light my candle. Are you a member?' I repeated, looking at him sideways.
"He moved a little so as to stand clear of me, and his bearing became crestfallen. 'No,' he said, in answer to the persistent interrogation of my eye; 'I'm not a member -I'm a ghost.'
"'Well, that doesn't give you the run of the Mermaid Club. Is there anyone you want to see, or anything of that sort?' And doing it as steadily as possible for fear that he should mistake the carelessness of whisky for the distraction of fear, I got my candle alight. I turned on him, holding it. 'What are you doing here?' I said.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?' I SAID."
"He had dropped his hands and stopped his booing, and there he stood, abashed and awkward, the ghost of a weak, silly, aimless young man. I'm haunting,' he said.
"'You haven't any business to,' I said, in a quiet voice.
"'I'm a ghost,' he said, as if in defence.
"'That may be, but you haven't any business to haunt here. This is a respectable private club; people often stop here with nursemaids and children, and, going about in the careless way you do, some poor little mite might easily come upon you and be scared out out of her wits. I suppose you didn't think of that?'
"'No, sir,' he said, I didn't.'
"'You should have done. You haven't any claim on the place, have you? Weren't murdered here, or anything of that sort?'
"'None, sir; but I thought as it was old and oak-panelled ——'
"'T'hat's no excuse.' I regarded him firmly. Your coming here is a mistake,' I said, in a tone of friendly superiority. I feigned to see if I had my matches and then looked up at him frankly. 'If I were you I wouldn't wait for cock-crow—-I'd vanish right away.'
"He looked embarrassed. 'The fact is, sir——' he began.
"'I'd vanish,' I said, driving it home.
"'The fact is, sir, that—somehow—I can't.'
"'You can't? '
