ll, dark form came pushing through
the trees at right angles, and was striding off to the distance. One
single moment's indecision--for Jan was not sure at first in the
uncertain light--and then he put his long legs to their utmost speed,
bore down, and pinned the intruder.

"Now, then!" said Jan, "ghost or no ghost, who are you?"

He was answered by a laugh, and some joking words--

"Don't throttle me quite, Jan. Even a ghost can't stand that."

The tone of the laugh, the tone of the voice, fell upon Jan Verner's
ears with the most intense astonishment. He peered into the speaker's
face with his keen eyes, and gave vent to an exclamation. In spite of
the whiskerless cheeks, the elaborate black mark, in spite of the
strange likeness to his brother, Jan recognised the features, not of
Frederick, but of John Massingbird.

CHAPTER LXVII.

DRESSING UP FOR A GHOST.

And so the mystery was out. And the ghost proved to be no ghost at
all--to be no husband of Sibylla--come to disturb the peace of her and
of Lionel; but _John_ Massingbird in real flesh and blood.

There was so much explanation to ask and to be given, that Jan was
somewhat hindered on his way to Hook's.

"I can't stop," said he, in the midst of a long sentence of John's.
"Alice Hook may be dying. Will you remain here until I come back?"

"If you are not long," responded John Massingbird. "I intend this to be
the last night of my concealment, and I want to go about, terrifying the
natives. The fun it has been!"

"Fun, you call it?" remarked Jan. "If Hook's girl does die, it will lie
at your door."

"_She_ won't die," lightly answered John. "I'll send her a ten-pound
note to make amends. Make you haste, Jan, if I am to wait."

Jan sped off to Hook's. He found the girl very ill, but not so much so
as Cheese had intimated. Some unseemly quarrel had taken place in the
cottage, which had agitated her.

"There's no danger," mentally soliloquised Jan, "but it has thrown her
back a good two days."

He found John Massingbird--restless John!--restless as ever!--pacing
before the trees with hasty strides, and bursting into explosions of
laughter.

"Some woman was coming along from one of the cottages by Broom's and I
appeared to her, and sent her on, howling," he explained to Jan. "I
think it was Mother Sykes. The sport this ghost affair has been!"

He sat down on a bench, held his sides, and let his laughter have vent.
Laughter is contagious, a