Jerry Masterson did a double-take. Out of reflex courtesy, he proffered a cigarette and was about to strike a match when his companion reached slightly to the left, where several coals glowed in mid-air. Selecting one, the stranger said, "Thank you, Junior. You can go now." He turned, lit Jerry's cigarette and his own. "All right, joker," said Jerry. "Show me how you did it and I'll show you a couple of card tricks and a disappearing penny routine." "Later," said the stranger. "Right now, matey, my sails is draggin' and I need spiritual reinforcement--liquid. And _you're_ buying." "There's a fifth of Scotch in my studio, but I'm not pouring for any phony tricksters. I've been saving it till I sold a canvas." "Scotch," sighed the stranger ecstatically. "Shades of the Loch Ness Monster! Quit scratching, Gertrude." "Gertrude?" "My cat--she's black. A handsome beastie if you overlook a hole in her head. A twenty-two caliber hole. Gertrude, materialize for the nice man." Nothing happened, and Jerry diplomatically sought to ease a situation that was rapidly becoming embarrassing. "Maybe she's bashful." "Not Gertrude. Just temperamental. She could materialize if she wanted to. She doesn't want to. Now take Junior...." "Junior?" "He's the conscientious type. Tries too hard, poor boy." "About that Scotch," said Jerry. "You don't think maybe a couple of cups of black coffee...." The stranger's face registered horror--and trust betrayed. "For shame, laddie. To be insulted in my darkest hour! Me, Captain Wully MacGreggor!" "Sure. You're Wully MacGreggor--and I'm Napoleon." "Watch." There was nothing to watch. The stranger had disappeared. A disembodied voice said, "Now about that Scotch? If Waukeena light is being torn down tomorrow, I'll be homeless. I've got a lot of haunting to do in the little time that's left. And here we stand, waggin' our jaws." Jerry's first impulse was to run like hell. "But I don't believe in ghosts!" His voice sounded. "Of course you do. If you didn't, you couldn't have seen me." He'd heard of self-hypnosis--apparently the session with the Mayor had upset him. "All right, so you're Wully MacGreggor. Why pick on me?" "Because I like you," said the ghost. "You said a kind word for me to the City Council and I'd like to do something nice for you." "If you can't help yourself, I don't see how you're going to be much help to me, but what've I got to lose?" He was too numb to worry further. Ghosts, yet...! * * * * * Next morning, Jerry Masterson awoke with a hangover. He dimly remembered floating lights, red, yellow, blue and green. He remembered Captain Wully scaring a couple of lovers with noises the young lady described as "something like bagpipes in an echo chamber." And he seemed to remember that, toward the end of the evening, Gertrude had deigned to materialize--along with a headless black ox and a white stag.