His pipe had lost its flavour, and he sat pondering in silence until the absolute necessity of finding more reasons for his continued presence in the house occurred to him. Mrs. Pinner agreed with the idea, and together they drew up a list of improvements which would occupy every minute of his spare time. He worked so feverishly that he became a by-word in the mouths of the other lodgers, and the only moments of security and happiness he knew were when he was working in the bedroom with the door locked. Mr. Smith attributed it to disease, and for one panic-stricken hour discussed with Mr. Hawk the possibility of its being infectious. Slowly the days passed until at length there were only two left, and he was in such a nervous and overwrought state that Mrs. Pinner was almost as anxious as he was for the day of departure. To comfort him she read a paragraph from the paper to the effect that the police had given up the search in despair. Mr. Pinner shook his head at this, and said it was a trap to get him out. He also, with a view of defeating the ends of justice, set to work upon a hood for the perambulator. He was employed on this when his wife went out to do a little shopping. The house when she returned was quiet, and there were no signs of anything unusual having occurred; but when she entered the room she started back with a cry at the sight which met her eyes. Mr. Pinner was in a crouching attitude on the sofa, his face buried in the cushion, while one leg waved spasmodically in the air. “Charlie,” she cried; “Charlie." There was a hollow groan from the cushion in reply. “What’s the matter?” she cried, in alarm. “What’s the matter?” “I’ve seen it,” said Mr. Pinner, in trembling tones. “I’ve seen a ghost. I was just peeping out of the winder behind the blind when it went by.” “Nonsense,” said his wife. “_His_ ghost,” said Mr. Pinner, regaining a more natural attitude and shivering violently, “red whiskers, white gloves and all. It’s doing a beat up and down this street. I shall go mad. It’s been by twice.” “’Magination,” said his wife, aghast at this state of affairs. “I’m afraid of its coming for me,” said Mr. Pinner, staring wildly. “Every minnit I expect to see it come to the door and beckon me to foller it to the station. Every minnit I expect to see it with its white face stuck up agin the winder-pane staring in at me.” “You mustn’t ’ave such fancies,” said his wife. “I see it as plain as I see you,” persisted the trembling fireman. “It was prancing up and down in just the same stuck-up way as it did when it was alive.” “I’ll draw the blind down,” said his wife. She crossed over to the window, and was about to lower the blind when she suddenly drew back with an involuntary exclamation. “Can you see it?” cried her husband. “No,” said Mrs. Pinner, recovering herself. “Shut your eyes.” The fireman sprang to his feet. “Keep back,” said his wife, “don’t look.” “I must,” said her husband.