“To whom is he speaking?” asked Moïse. “There is nothing I see! Can you see?”
“Hush—hush! For any sake be quiet!” Mundey was acting splendidly.
“South!” I shouted, and started off at a great pace down the lane. “South! South!”
Mundey kept step with me. The Pimple and the Cook trotted (uncomfortably because of the bayonets) close behind us. With eyes fixed on the “spirit” I rushed past the astonished sentry, who obeyed a signal from Moïse and made no effort to stop me. As I went I called to the spirit to have mercy on us poor mortals, and not to go so fast. Then, as my breath failed, I came to a stop and sat down in the cabbage-patch outside the camp.
“What has happened? Where am I?” I looked up at Moïse with a dazed expression.
“You cannot see it now?” Moïse asked in great agitation. “It is not quite gone away, surely?”
“Quick!” said Mundey. “The Ink Pool! Before it goes! Hurry up, Moïse!”
The Interpreter produced the bottle of ink and saucer which the Spook had ordered him to bring. We poured the ink into the saucer, and Mundey and I stared fixedly into it.
“Ah!” said Mundey.
“Ah!” said I.