figure was stalking away from us in mid-air, and it
seemed to fade slowly in the moonlight.

"It's going!" I exclaimed. "Don, it's getting away!"

Impulsively I started scrambling over the rocks; unreasoningly, for
who can chase and capture a ghost?

Don stopped me. "Wait!" His shotgun went to his shoulders. The white
shape was now again about fifty feet away. The gun blazed into the
moonlight. The buckshot tore through the stalking white figure; the
moonlit shorefront echoed with the shot.

When the smoke cleared away, we saw the apparition still walking
quietly forward. Up over the sea now, up and out into the moonlit
night, growing smaller and dimmer in the distance, until presently
it was faded and gone.

A ghost?

We thought so then.

CHAPTER II

_The Face at the Window_

This was our first encounter with the white invaders. It was too
real to ignore or treat lightly. One may hear tales of a ghost, even
the recounting by a most reliable eye-witness, and smile
skeptically. But to see one yourself--as we had seen this thing in
the moonlight of that Bermuda shorefront--that is a far different
matter.

We told our adventure to Jane's father when he drove in from
Hamilton about eleven o'clock that same evening. But he, who
personally had seen no ghost, could only look perturbed that we
should be so deluded. Some trickster--or some trick of the
moonlight, and the shadowed rocks aiding our own sharpened
imaginations. He could think of no other explanation. But Don had
fired pointblank into the thing and had not harmed it.

Arthur Dorrance, member of the Bermuda Parliament, was a gray-haired
gentleman in his fifties, a typical British Colonial, the present
head of this old Bermuda family. The tales or the ghosts, whatever
their origin, already had forced themselves upon Governmental
attention. All this evening, in Hamilton, Mr. Dorrance had been in
conference trying to determine what to do about it. Tales of terror
in little Bermuda had a bad enough local effect, but to have them
spread abroad, to influence adversely the tourist trade upon which
Bermuda's very existence depended--that presaged economic
catastrophe.

"And the tales are spreading," he told us. "Look here, you young
cubs, it's horribly disconcerting to have you of all people telling
me a thing like this."

Even now he could not believe us. But he sat staring at us,
eyeglasses in hand, with his untouched drink before him.

"We'll