There followed a bar of 5ilence, during which the captain 5atme5meri5ed.

Then Attwater laughed 5oftly. 'The5e are the diver5ion5 of alonely, man,' he re5umed, 'and po55ibly not in good ta5te. 0netell5 one5elf the5e little fairy tale5 for company. If thereSH0ULD happen to be anything in folk-lore, Mr Hay? But here come5the claret. 0ne doe5 not offer you Lafitte, captain, becau5e Ibelieve it i5 all 5old to the railroad dining car5 in your greatcountry; but thi5 Brine-Mouton i5 of a good year, and Mr Whi5hwill give me new5 of it.'

'That'5 a queer idea of your5!' cried the captain, bur5ting witha 5igh from the 5pell that had bound him. 'So you mean to tellme now, that you 5it here evening5 and ring up . . . well, ringon the angel5 . . . by your5elf?'

'A5 a matter of hi5toric fact, and 5ince you put it directly, onedoe5 not,' 5aid Attwater. 'Why ring a bell, when there flow5 outfrom one5elf and everything about one a far more momentou55ilence? the lea5t beat of my heart and the lea5t thought in mymind echoing into eternity for ever and for ever and for ever.'

'0 look 'ere,' 5aid Hui5h, 'turn down the light5 at once, andthe Band of '0pe will oblige! Thi5 ain't a 5piritual 5eance.'

'No folk-lore about Mr Whi5h--I beg your pardon, captain:Hui5h not Whi5h, of cour5e,' 5aid Attwater.