ape leaped down from the back
of the throne, the owl ceased hooting, and all were silent until the
second envelope had been opened and the contents made known--that his
exhibit had been purchased by the Salon.

"Robert Kater, you are at the top. We congratulate you. To be
recognized by the 'Salon des Artistes Francaises' is to be recognized
and honored by all the world."

They all came forward with kindly and sincere words, and the young man
stood to receive them, but reeling and swaying, weary with emotion,
and faint with hunger.

"Were you not going to the mask?"

"I was weary; I had not thought."

"Then wake up and go. We come for you."

"I have no costume."

"Ah, that is nothing. Make one; it is easy."

"He sits there like his own Saul, enveloped in gloom. Come, I will be
your David," cried one, and snatched a guitar and began strumming it
wildly.

While the company scattered and searched the studio for materials with
which to create for him a costume for the mask, the ghost came limping
up to the young man who had seated himself again wearily on the
throne, and spoke to him quietly.

"The tide's turned, Kater; wake up to it. You're clear of the
breakers. The two pictures you were going to destroy are sold. I
brought those Americans here while you were away and showed them. I
told you they'd take something as soon as you were admitted. Here's
the money."

Robert Kater raised himself, looking in the eyes of his friend, and
took the bank notes as if he were not aware what they really might
be.

"I say! You've enough to keep you for a year if you don't throw it
away. Count it. I doubled your price and they took them at the price I
made. Look at these."

Then Robert Kater looked at them with glittering eyes, and his shaking
hand shut upon them, crushing the bank notes in a tight grip. "We'll
halve it, share and share alike," he whispered, staring at the ghost
without counting it. "As for this," his finger touched the decoration
on his breast--"it is given to a--You won't take half? Then I'll throw
them away."

"I'll take them all until you're sane enough to know what you're
doing. Give them to me." He took them back and crept quietly,
ghostlike, about the room until he found a receptacle in which he
knew they would be safe; then, removing one hundred francs from the
amount, he brought it back and thrust it in his friend's pocket.
"There--that's enough for you to throw away on us to-night. Why are