But with introspection, this exultancy grew suddenly dim. How about himself? Yes. Here was a question that would bear some close inspection. Was it really the wish to capture a supposable burglar? He made short work of this analysis. He never lied to others--not even in his work, which every one knows is endowed with special licenses in regard to truth--nor did he ever play the futile, if soothing, game of lying to himself. This girl was different from the ordinary run of girls; she might become dangerous. He determined then and there not to prolong his visit more than three or four days; just to satisfy her that there was no ghost in the chimney. Then he would return to New York. He had no more right than Breitmann to fall in love with the daughter of a millionaire. Loving her was not impossible, but leaving at an early day would go toward lessening the probability. He was not afraid of Breitmann; he was foreigner enough to accept at once his place, and to appreciate that he and this girl stood at the two ends of the world. And Breitmann's mind, which had, up to this time, been deep and unruffled as a pool, became strangely disturbed. The time moved on to luncheon. Breitmann took the part of listener, and spoke only when addressed. "I must tell you, Mr. Breitmann," said Laura, "that a ghost has returned to us." "A ghost?" interestedly. "Yes. My daughter," said the admiral tolerantly, "believes that she hears strange noises at night, tapping, and such like." "Oh!" politely. Breitmann broke his bread idly. It was too bad. She had not produced upon him the impression that she was the sort of woman whose imagination embraced the belief in spirits. "Where does this ghost do its tapping?" "In the big chimney in the library," she answered. No one observed Breitmann's hand as it slid from the bread, some of which was scattered upon the floor. The scars, betraying emotion such as no mental effort could control, deepened, which is to say that the skin above and below them had paled. "Might it not be some trial visit of your patron saint, Santa Claus?" he inquired, his voice well under control. "Really, it is no jest," she affirmed. "For several nights I have heard the noise distinctly; a muffled tapping inside the chimney." "Suppose we inspect it after luncheon?" suggested Fitzgerald. "It has been done," said the admiral. Outwardly he was still skeptical, but a doubt was forming in his mind. "It will do no harm to try it again," said Breitmann. If Fitzgerald noted the subdued excitement in the man's voice, he charged it to the moment. "Take my word for it," avowed the admiral, "you will find nothing. Bring the coffee into the library," he added to the butler.