“'Or else, Bunter,' he says, 'you may get another manifestation when you least expect it, and tumble overboard perhaps, or something. You ain't really safe till we pacify the spirit-world in some way.'
“Can you conceive a lunatic like that? No—say?”
I said nothing. But Mrs. Bunter did, in a very decided tone.
“Winston, I don't want you to go on board that ship again any more.”
“My dear,” says he, “I have all my things on board yet.”
“You don't want the things. Don't go near that ship at all.”
He stood still; then, dropping his eyes with a faint smile, said slowly, in a dreamy voice:
“The haunted ship.”
“And your last,” I added.
We carried him off, as he stood, by the night train. He was very quiet; but crossing the Channel, as we two had a smoke on deck, he turned to me suddenly, and, grinding his teeth, whispered: