ur, I was a Napoleon poorer for every 'Amlet in my house that
night."

Roger put down two sovereigns on the table.

"That is to pay for the ghost," said he, flushing. "He was my brother."

The landlord stared in blank amazement.

"Your brother! Monsieur le Ghost of _'Amlet_ was--_pardieu_!" exclaimed
he, looking hard at his guest, "and he was like you. It was no fault of
his _'Amlet_ did not take the favour, for he play in the first act and
make us all laugh. If the other 'Amlets had been so amusing as him, the
house would have been full--packed. Ha! now you say it, he was a
gentleman, this poor Monsieur le Ghost. He held himself apart from the
noisy company, and sulk in a corner, while they laugh, and drink, and
sing the song. They were afraid of him, and, _mon dieu_! they might
be--for once, when Monsieur Rosencrantz, as I remember, came and threw
some absinthe--my absinthe, messieurs--in his face, Monsieur le Ghost he
knocked him down with a blow that sounded--oh, like a clap of the
thunder. And this pauvre ghost," added the man, "was monsieur's
brother! _Helas_! he was come down very poor--his coat was rags, and
his boots were open to the water of heaven. He eat little. Ah,
monsieur, I have deceived you. He cost me not five franc; for, when I
remember, he ate nothings--he starve himself."

"Was he ill?" asked Armstrong.

"Worse," said the landlord, lowering his voice; "he was in love. I
could see it. She laugh and make the mock at him, and play coquet with
the others before his face. It nearly killed him--this pauvre ghost.
He would have give his hand for a kind glance, but he got it never."

"Who was the girl?" asked Roger.

"But a child, the minx--fifteen, perhaps sixteen, years, no more. She
played the part of a page-boy, and only so because monsieur, her father,
was manage the play. He was Frenchman, this monsieur, but mademoiselle
was English like her mother. _Helas_! monsieur, your brother was deep
in love. But there was no hope for him. A fool could see that."

This was all the host could tell them. He had never heard since of any
member of the ill-fated company. He could introduce them to no one who
remembered their visit. A few there might be who when appealed to might
have recalled the disturbance on the night of the performance, and the
absconding of the players. But who they were and what became of them no
one could say.

On their return to the hotel at Boulogne at midn