“You shall come with me and see a ghost,” insisted Carpentaria angrily and obstinately, “or I will make such a scandal in this place as will go far to ruin it. Let me tell you that I know a great deal more than you think. I am in a position, for example, to ask you, Ilam, whether you spend your nights in bed or wandering about the grounds carrying mysterious burdens.” A group of visitors hurried past them. “What do you mean?” muttered Ilam. “I--you must be going off your head.” “Doubtless I’m a madman, eh? Well, come along with the madman.” Ilam sighed. They passed into the Central Way, and had to fight for progress against the multitudes that crowded the footpaths. No one recognized them. “I wish we could understand each other,” said Ilam. “We shall, rest assured of that,” returned Carpentaria. “In quite a few minutes we shall understand each other, or I am mistaken, and it may be you that will have to leave this City--and with considerably less than fifty thousand a year, my friend.” He pictured the moment when he should confront Ilam with the man whose corpse Ilam had buried. Vistas opened out before him. He saw the tables completely turned; he saw himself sole master of the City, and the wielder of such power over Ilam as would enforce obedience to his wishes. Then there would be no more insulting requests to abandon his music, no more ridiculous suggestions, and no fear of foolishness on the part of Juliette. It astonished him that he had not realized before the enormous latent power which his knowledge of Saturday night gave him over Ilam. “You will come with me to my house,” he said. “Who is there?” asked Ilam wearily. “Dr. Rivers--and the ghost.” “What is all this nonsense about a ghost?” “You shall see him first, and then, when you have seen him--before he has seen you--you shall tell me whether or not you would like to have a chat with him. It is a ghost warranted to talk.” Ilam said nothing. He was naturally at a complete loss. They entered the bungalow by means of Carpentaria’s latchkey, and they mounted to the first-floor, and they went into the study. The door of the bedroom was shut. Carpentaria led Ilam out on to the balcony of the study window, from which it was not difficult, even for Ilam, to climb into the balcony of the bedroom. “Now, you shall look into my bedroom,” said Carpentaria. And he himself looked first. It may be said that he was astounded. The room was lighted. There were no signs of Mr. Jetsam, but two chairs had been overturned, and young Rivers lay prone on the floor, his eyes shut, and some blood flowing from a wound in his forehead. Carpentaria sprang into the room, and, strange to say, Ilam followed him. The fact was that Ilam did really for the moment believe Carpentaria to be mad, and the bedroom to be the scene of some maniacal crime. . Just then Rivers came to his senses. “That you, Mr. Carpentaria?” he murmured, rubbing his eyes.