e trying to work any ghostly trick on me," called Benson,
derisively, "try something else!"

Again the groan, a bit louder, but Jack's answer was a merry, ringing
laugh, in which there, was not a trace of dread.

"Thank you for the company, Mr. Groan," he called cheerily. "I was
beginning to feel a bit lonely. But say! Can't you bring a light--even
a ghostly one?"

"I am the spirit of Paul Jones," breathed a low, wailing voice.

"Oh nonsense!" jeered Jack. "Paul Jones never spoke with a cheap
French accent."

"I come to--to warn--you," sounded the same sepulchral accents.

"Bring the warning right in and let's have look at it," begged Jack,
heartily. Some convulsive sobs sounded out by the passageway.

"Oh, say," chuckled Jack, "as a vender of blood curdling noises you're
in need of repairs. Listen! I'll sound a much better line for you!"

With that, and in a deep, blood curdling voice, Captain Benson started
in on the first verse of "Down among the dead men."

He was interrupted then by a more tangible sound. Beyond, a match was
scratched. Then a lantern was thrust in from the low tunnel, followed
by the appearance of the rather long body of Gaston, the chauffeur.

"I thought my singing would bring something," chuckled Jack. "In a
large town it always brings the police. Well, how are you? I'm really
glad to see anything human, and I suppose you'll answer to that
description, eh?"

In silence the chauffeur stepped forward resting the lighted lantern on
the floor a few, feet from the boy. Then the Frenchman seated himself
on the boards, next bringing out a paper package from one of his
pockets. As he untied the string Jack watched with lively interest.

"Sandwiches, eh?" chuckled Jack. "Thank you. I'm ready."

"This is my supper," answered Gaston, taking a bite of one of the
sandwiches. "You don't get any."

"Oh, I don't?" demanded Captain Jack, feeling the pangs of hunger worse
than ever.

Gaston's next move was to take a bottle from another pocket, uncorking
it.

"As you're a Frenchman, I suppose that's wine," muttered Jack. "I don't
use that kind of stuff, but water--"

"This is water," replied the Frenchman, pouring a few drops onto the
floor before the submarine boy's eyes.

Jack's throat ached at sight of the water. "I suppose you've come here
to eat and drink, in order to torment me?" asked Captain Benson.

"It must give you huge pleasure to watch me," suggested Gaston, ta