then, as they lightened, the Cuban saw before him, shadow-like and
strange, the figure of the Black Emperor himself.

The warders' terror of the ghost of Christophe cramped Manuel's heart
for a moment and he fell back. His hand flashed to his pocket, none the
less.

The figure laughed, a harsh coarse laugh which Manuel knew and
recognized at once.

"General Leborge," he exclaimed, surprise and self-annoyance struggling
in his voice. "It is you!"

"But Yes, my friend, it is I. You see, I am not so daring as you. I came
secretly. I have been here three days, waiting for you."

"But the meeting was set for today!"

"It is true. But it was more difficult for me to get here than for you.
See you, as a stranger you had not the suspicion of intrusion to combat.
No, if it were known that I were here, there would be political
difficulties--ah, many! Yes!"

The Cuban nodded. He was not especially interested in the political
embroilments of his co-conspirator. As a matter of fact, the plot
accomplished, it was Manuel's purpose to let enough of the truth leak
out to make it seem that Leborge had been a traitor to the Haitian
Republic.

"Have you seen Cecil?" he asked.

"Not yet, No!" answered the negro general. "Me, I had thought he would
come with you."

"He didn't. And he wasn't on the road from Cap Haitien, either. Queer,
too. First time I ever knew him to fail."

"So! But I have a feeling he will not fail. He will be here today. Come
down to the place of meeting. I have some food and we can have a
mouthful while waiting for him."

The big negro cast a look at himself.

"I do not think we shall be interrupted, No!" he commented.

The Cuban showed his teeth in the gleam of a quick smile.

"The guards are too much afraid of the ghost of Christophe to dare enter
the place," he said. "That was a good idea of yours."

The two men turned away from the battlements to the steps which led down
toward the dwelling rooms, and Manuel laid finger on lip.

"It is well to be a ghost," he said, "but if the guards should chance to
hear me talking to the ghost, they might begin to think. And thinking,
my dear Leborge, is sometimes dangerous."

The huge negro nodded assent and hung back while Manuel descended the
stair.

At the entrance into the high room, ringed with windows, in a small
ruined opening of which Stuart crouched watching, Manuel waited for
Leborge. Together they entered.

At the door of the room the negro