who followed in Alresca’s footsteps. Then there were the two appearances during my journey from London to Paris with Rosa’s jewels — in the train and on the steamer. Matters by that time had become more serious. I was genuinely in love, and the ghost’s anger was quickened. The train was wrecked and the steamer might have been sunk, and I could not help thinking that the ghost, in some ineffectual way, had been instrumental in both these disasters. The engine-driver, who said he was “dazed,” and the steersman, who attributed his mistake at the wheel to the interference of some unknown outsider — were not these things an indication that my dreadful suspicion was well grounded? And if so, to what frightful malignity did they not point! Here was a spirit, which in order to appease the pangs of a supernatural jealousy,