n the
deserted hull: and there--upon the deck--stood a figure--the figure
of a woman.

She was motionless, and leant against the bulwarks, with her face
towards him, but in black shadow. A dark hood covered her head; but
the cloak was flung back, and revealed just a gleam of white where
her bosom and shoulders bent forward over the schooner's side.

Mr. Fogo's heart gave a leap, stood still, and then fell to beating
with frantic speed. He craned out at the window, straining his eyes.
At the same moment the pipe dropped from his lips and tumbled,
scattering a shower of sparks, into the rose-bush below.

When he looked up again the woman had disappeared.

Suddenly he remembered Caleb's story of the girl who, ages back, had
left her home to live among the lepers in this very house, perhaps in
the very room he occupied; and of the ghost that haunted the burial
ground below. Mr. Fogo was not without courage; but the recollection
brought a feeling of so many spiders creeping up his spine.

And yet the whole tale was so unlikely that, by degrees, as he gazed
at the wreck, now completely bathed in moonlight, he began to
persuade himself that his eyes had played him a trick.

"I will go to bed," he muttered; "I have been upset lately, and these
fits of mine may well pass into hallucination. Once think of these
women and--"

He stopped as if shot. From behind the wreck a small boat shot out
into the moon's brilliance. Two figures sat in it, a woman and a
man; and as the boat dropped swiftly down on the ebb he had time to
notice that both were heavily muffled about the face. This was all
he could see, for in a moment they had passed into the gloom, and the
next the angle of the house hid them from view; but he could still
hear the plash of their oars above the sounds of the night.

"The leper and his sweetheart," was Mr. Fogo's first thought.
But then followed the reflection--would ghostly oars sound?
On the whole, he decided against the supernatural. But the mystery
remained. More curious than agitated, but nevertheless with little
inclination to resume his communing with the night, Mr. Fogo sought
his hammock and fell asleep.

The sun was high when he awoke, and as he descended to breakfast
he heard Caleb's mallet already at work on the quay below.
Still, anxious to set his doubts at rest, he made a hasty meal, and
walked down to take a second opinion on the vision.

Caleb, with his back towards the house,