spoke, like a man with a full mouth.

"Anyhow," said Scott, "they'd better pass on; I prefer it that way.
Superban's not London, you know."

There came a laugh from the sheet that covered the man's head, short
and harsh. "If it was," he said, "you'd not be meeting us, me lad."

"Who are you?" demanded Scott. Some quality in the man--his manner of
speech, the tone of his laugh, or that faint, unidentifiable
taint--made him uneasy.

"Me?" said the man. "Well, I'll tell you. I'm Captain John Crowder, I
am--what's left of me, and that's a sick soul inside a dead body. And
them"--he made a motion toward the waiting ghosts--"them's my crew
these days. We're the chaps that fetches the dead, we are."

Scott peered at him eagerly, and stepped forward.

The other avoided him by stepping back. "Not too near," he said. "It
ain't sense."

"Captain, you said?" asked Scott. "Er--not a ship-captain, you mean?"

"Ay, I'm a ship-captain right enough," was the answer; "and in my
day----"

Scott interrupted excitedly. "See here," he said. "I've got a boat,
and I want a man to sail her to Delagoa Bay. I'll pay; I'll pay you a
level hundred to start by nine in the morning, cash down on the deck
the minute you're outside the bar. What d'you say to it?"

The sheeted man seemed to stare at him before he answered. "You're on
the run, then?" he mumbled at last. "You're dodging the plague, eh?"

"Yes," said Scott. "A level hundred, an' you can have the boat as
well."

"Man, you must be badly scared," said the other. "What's frightened
you? Are you feared you'll die?"

"Go to blazes," retorted Scott. "Will you come or won't you?"

The man laughed again, the same short cackle of mirth.

"Listen," urged Scott, wiping his forehead. "I've got a--er--I've got
a girl. You say I'm scared. Well, I am scared; every time I think of
her in this plague-rotten place, I go cold to the bone. Is it more
money you want? You can have it. But there's no time to lose; I'm not
the only one that knows about the boat."

"A girl." The other repeated the word, and then stood silent.

"Curse it!" cried Scott, "can't you say the word? Will you come, man?"

"It wouldn't do," said the sheeted man slowly. "You're fond of her,
eh? Ay, but it wouldn't do. Any other man 'u'd suit ye better, me
lad."

"There's no other man," said Scott angrily. "In all this blasted town
there's no man but you. I've been through it like a terrier under a
rick. And I'll tell y