what
them flames may be, but I tells you it's sheer death to attempt to see
for yourself, so long as night lasts. And in the morning--well, it's
gone, and there isn't a thing to be seen for the lookin'!"

"Merciful powers! What a peculiar thing!" Despite his mockery of the
supernatural, Merriton could not help but feel a sort of awe steal over
him, at the tale as told by Borkins in the eeriest hour of the whole
twenty-four--that which hangs between darkness and dawn. Should he go or
shouldn't he? He was a fool to believe the thing, and yet--He certainly
didn't want to die yet awhile, with Antoinette Brellier a mere handful of
yards away from him, and all the days his own to cultivate her
acquaintance in.

"You've fairly made my flesh creep with your beastly story!" he said, in
a rather high-pitched voice. "Might have reserved it until morning--after
my _debut_ 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
flames obviously had nothing to do with it!"

Borkins's wrink