"Stand back," he cried in a terrible voice, "stand back. I know you, I know who you are. You think you can fool me, do you? You think I don't know you, eh? God in heaven, what do you take me for, sir?" With his curled fingers digging at the air as though to tear away some obstructing veil he stared at me with reddening eyes, and went on, "Ha, yes, you think you look like Tommy, do you? But I know you. You would hunt me down, blast your eyes! You would tell me of the bodies lying there. You would put the world upon my track. Ha, you would drag me out into the light, point at me, set men's eyes upon me, name me murderer? So? Murderer, am I? Killed my own brothers, did I? Trapped them and left them there to die?" His voice rose more shrilly with each word, and he finished with a scream, suddenly covering his face with his hands, "And I did, I did! Oh, God!" He sank sobbing to the floor. I didn't know what to do. It was terrible, it was piteous. But I knew he was mad, and dared not approach him. Presently he seemed to regain control of himself. Still huddled on the floor he threw out a hand to me, and looking up at me from flushed and swollen eyes began in a strained, low, monotonous tone, "See here, this is how it was. And you _will_ know sooner or later. They'd have killed me. I tell you, they'd have killed me. Yes, my own brothers would have killed me for the gold. But I found out how it lay. I trapped them there. But one escaped; the youngest. I loved him. I tell you, I loved the boy. And he would have killed me for the gold. I tell you...." He broke off. His head fell between his hands. "You don't believe me," he moaned reproachfully, "you don't believe a word I say." "Sir," I cried, "I do believe you." Slowly he peered up at me, and I saw a wicked gleam lighten his face. "So," he said. "Then come and kiss me, boy." I think I would have ventured all and gone to him to see if I might pacify his tortured spirit, but I remembered how once before he had snared me so at Sunset Towers. I held back doubtfully, though I yearned to run to him and comfort him. At my hesitation his face grew frightful. He sprang to his feet and cried, "He hates me. Tommy hates me because I killed his father. I killed...." He stopped short, and staring at me said deliberately, "You lie. It's all a lie. I didn't kill him. My name is Field; Captain Field, I'd have you know. And the crying you hear at night, Tommy, it's the ghost. You know it's the ghost?" "Yes, sir," I said, "I've seen it." For I thought to lead his mind back to earlier associations. But he chuckled to himself and said, "Little fool! Seen it, eh? Little fool!" The thought seemed to amuse him. He laughed quietly for a while. Then again I saw his eyes slanting round at me. He stopped laughing, and gazing at me stupidly, said, "Still here, eh? What do you want with me, eh? God in heaven, can't you say what you want?" He stood so for a moment, and I couldn't say a word.