Too late, Dick understood why I'd poke-checked him. He turned red and began gobbling like a block-bound turkey.
"N-no, Miss Diane. N-nothing like that. Bert and I were just having a little horseplay. We'd had a drink—"
"Don't lie to me, Dick! It was Lancelot! It must have been. I—I saw him myself!"
Well! That was one for the books. It was our turn to gape. Cap Hanson stared from one to another of us wildly.
"What's this? You saw Lancelot, Diane? Where?"
"In my cabin. An hour or so ago. I was trying to take a little nap. Something wakened me—I don't know what—and I saw him standing in the middle of the room. He was so pale. So thin, and so sad. Oh, Daddy—"
She buried her face on his shoulder. Hanson said, "Now, there, honey!" He looked like an accident hunting for some place to happen. He stared at us dismally.
"Is that the truth, boys? Is that what you saw?"
We nodded. I said, "I'm not what you might call a superstitious guy, Skipper, but I know what I see. It was his ghost, all right."