wn particular ghosts on. Which
wasn't researching fair.

Sally was no better than the rest of them; if anything, she was a
little worse. And Rosalind was far from sure that her husband wouldn't
have been much more reasonable if he hadn't had Sally there to
encourage him. As it was, the league became, _pro hac vice_, a league
of Incredulity, a syndicate of Materialists. Rosalind got no quarter
for the half-belief she had in what the old Colonel had said
on his death-bed. Her report of his evident earnestness and the
self-possession of his voice carried no weight; failing powers,
delirium, effects of opiates, and ten degrees above normal had it all
their own way. Besides, her superstition was weak-kneed. It only went
the length of suggesting that it really was very curious when you came
to think of it, and she couldn't make it out.

That the incident received such very superficial recognition must be
accounted for by the fact that Krakatoa Villa was not a villa of the
speculative-thinker class. We have known such villas elsewhere, but
we are bound to say we have known none where speculative thought has
tackled the troublesome questions of death-bed appearances, haunted
houses, _et id genus omne_, with the result of coming to any but very
speculative conclusions. The male head of this household may have
felt that he himself, as a problem for the Psychical Researcher, was
ill-fitted to discuss the subject. He certainly shied off expressing
any decided opinions.

"What do you really think about ghosts?" said his wife to him one day,
when Sally wasn't there to come in with her chaff.

"Ghosts belong in titled families. Middle-class ghosts are a poor lot.
Those in the army and navy cut the best figure, on the whole--Junior
United Service ghosts...."

"Gerry, be serious, or I'll have a divorce!" This was a powerful grip
on a stinging-nettle. Rosalind felt braced by the effort. "Did you
ever see a ghost, old man?"

"Not in the present era, sweetheart. I can't say about B.C." He used
to speak of his life in this way, but his wife always felt sorry when
he alluded to it. It seldom happened. "No, I have never seen one to
my knowledge. I've been seen as a ghost, though, which is very
unpleasant, I assure you."

Rosalind's mind went back to the fat Baron at Sonnenberg. She supposed
this to be another case of the same sort. "When was that?" she said.

"Monday. I took a hansom from Cornhill to our bonded warehouse. It's
unde