All at once I saw, under the shade of a genipa tree, a tall stout man, who stood motionless, and watched me. Deeming him a Spaniard, I would have shouted out, but my tongue refused to obey me, and turning hot and dry, rattled as it were against my teeth, while no sound but a low hiss could I form. Still the figure stood there; and now I saw a glimmer as of a naked weapon which it held. The sun being now setting, his rays came slanting down, and one of these quivering through the trees fell full upon the face of the stranger, and I saw that it was Walshe, with his great eyes glaring at me, just as they glared when the shark rose in the mangrove canal, and pulled him down beneath his crunching teeth. I stood trembling, and trying to pray. The features were livid and blue, and the eyes sunk and expressionless, yet horribly bright. Just at this moment one of the last puffs of the sea-breeze shook the trees around, and the sunlight falling in a different stream, and chequered by other branches upon the appearance, the face gradually seemed to change. Feature after feature melted away, until the agonized countenance of the unfortunate seaman was gone, and, instead of it, there remained the massive features and pensive gravity of my preserver on board the Frenchman—Wright. Just then the weapon, which I had formerly observed to glitter, moved, and I saw the figure heave up a great broad axe on one hand, and point to it with the other. It was, indeed, the regicide, with the emblem and the instrument of his deed. Making a sudden effort, I burst the leaden bonds which seemed to confine me, and with a strange courage rushed forward. As I did the phantom grew dim and dimmer, and when I placed my hand upon its breast, I felt but the gnarled bark of the genipa tree, whilst the axe, at the same instant, seemed to become a branch with clustering foliage dancing in the wind. I grew directly sick and faint.