"Ay, ay," said Lingo, eyeing him suspiciously. "What then?"
"Then the records of our Society are vindicated. They go back, my dear sir, some two hundred years; and they contain, from various sources, an unbroken account of Captain Lingo and his exploits from the time of James the Second to the present. But the sources of our information were not always reliable; some doubts were thrown upon our records by jealous persons outside the Society; and as it is the special business of the Committee on Doubtful and Fabulous Tales to look into such matters, the Committee is here before you at the present moment in the interest of truth. No member of our Society has ever seen Captain Lingo, and the jealous persons I have mentioned pretend
that no such person has ever existed. The chief mission of our Committee is to vindicate our records by a sight of Captain Lingo himself. Thanks to you, sir, that has now been done. Our next mission is to determine for our Society this most important question: are you alive or dead?"
At this, the captain's brows came together in a terrible frown; the scar across his cheek and chin turned very white; and he glared under his eyebrows dangerously at the complacent Third Vice-President. His lips parted, showing his white teeth clenched tight together. He started to speak through his clenched teeth, and leveled his pistol straight at the Third Vice-President's breast; but at that moment a cry from the Churchwarden startled everybody.
"Bless my soul! Why didn't I never once think of this before? These men ain't real persons at all! How could they be, after two hundred years? They're no better than wicked spirits! That's what they are, wicked spirits! Why didn't we think of that before? Aha! my fine friends, I've got a little medicine here for you! Ha! ha!"
He drew forth from his back pocket a little perfume bottle, and waved it over his head.
"Hurrah!" he cried. "Hurrah for the Odour of Sanctity!" And with these words the Churchwarden uncorked the bottle and sprinkled a few drops of his perfume on the floor, directly at the feet of Captain Lingo.
A sharp odour instantly filled the air; so sharp that it brought tears to the eyes of everyone. Captain Lingo and his men stepped quickly backward, but it was too late. A look of pained surprise crept over their faces, and remained fixed there. Their feet stood rooted to the floor, and the hands which held the cutlasses and pistols stiffened and became rigid. Not one of them could move an eye-lash. Their outlines
began to waver; their faces began to be dim and vague, as if covered with close white veils; from their outsides inward they slowly faded, melted, dissolved; nothing remained of any of them but a wraith, a vapor, a puff of smoke, remotely in the shape of a human being; and then that also vanished; nothing remained; the place where they had been was empty.
All eyes turned to the table where the thirteen murdered pirates had been sitting. They were gone. Their chairs were vacant.