There was one difference, though. He was not quiet, motionless, as he had been when I had seen him in my turret. There was a look of fretful anxiety in his eyes. He was gesturing impatiently to his awe-struck watchers, motioning them to approach him. His lips were moving, but no sound issued from them. There was in the air that same high, thin whining I had noted before; that same sharp, rather ammoniac odor. Then Diane cried, "Lanse! Oh, Lanse, darling--!" and rushed forward. Straight toward, up to, into and _through_ the spectre of her lost lover. And she stopped, dazed. Her arms waved wildly. "B-but he's gone! He's not here? Where did he--" I choked weakly, "D-don't look now, Diane, but you sort of--er--broke him up. Little chunks of him are floating around you." Which was the God's-honest truth, so help me! When she burst into that phantom, it popped apart like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. Shattered into a thousand little shimmering, quivering bits, as an image will shatter in a quiet pool when you chuck a rock into it. Diane stepped back. The hunks of Biggs came drifting back together again. I saw, now, that he wore a happy smile. His lips moved, and we read the name he spoke. "_Diane!_" Hanson whirled on the scowling Chief Engineer. "How long has he been here, Chief? What's he want?" Garrity's reply was as sultry as a Venusian sunset. "And joost how, Captain Hanson, would I be capable of knowin' the _de_-sires of a disembodied speerit? I'm a mon of broad expeerience, sirrr, but I dinna pretend to comprehend _ee_-cleesiastical mysteries. _Shoo!_" He waved his arms at the ghostly Biggs. "Go 'way, ye bodiless demon! 'From ghoulies an' ghosties an' all sairts o' beasties an' things thot go "Boomp!" in the nicht, O Laird, deliverrr us!'" Hanson turned to me in desperation. "He's trying to tell us something, Sparks. You and him was friends. Can't you understand him?" I was already pondering that problem. It was plain that Biggs' motions were not purposeless, that he was trying to communicate some message. I stepped forward, facing the wraith, formed short words clearly on my lips. "Lanse--can you hear me?" He shook his head. "But you can read writing?" I had some crazy idea of scribbling messages to him for his perusal. Of course, it was a one-way ticket to the Observation Ward if anybody ever found out I'd been holding a chalk-talk confab with a ghost, but---- He didn't like that idea, either. He raised both arms. Then he did a funny thing. He started waving his paws in the air. Left paw--right--right again--left--left-- Todd groaned, and looked for a soft spot to faint on. "Not only a spook," he wailed, "but a _dancing_ spook--" "Shut up!" I yelled. "Cap, shove that alleged Mate through the airlock. This ain't cuckoo--it's _code_! Go on, chum! I'm getting it!" For: