man.

"Colonel Demarion," spake the deep solemn voice of the perforated
stranger, "in vain you shoot me--I am dead already."

The soldier, with all his bravery, gasped, spellbound. The firelight
gleamed through the hole in the body, and the eyes of the shooter were
riveted there.

"Fear nothing," spake the mournful presence; "I seek but to divulge my
wrongs. Until my death shall be avenged my unquiet spirit lingers here.
Listen."

Speechless, motionless was the statesman; and the mournful apparition
thus slowly and distinctly continued:

"Four years ago I travelled with one I trusted. We lodged here. That
night my comrade murdered me. He plunged a dagger into my heart while I
slept. He covered the wound with a plaster. He feigned to mourn my
death. He told the people here I had died of heart complaint; that I had
long been ailing. I had gold and treasures. With my treasure secreted
beneath his garments he paraded mock grief at my grave. Then he
departed. In distant parts he sought to forget his crime; but his stolen
gold brought him only the curse of an evil conscience. Rest and peace
are not for him. He now prepares to leave his native land forever. Under
an assumed name that man is this night in Charleston. In a few hours he
will sail for Europe. Colonel Demarion, you must prevent it. Justice and
humanity demand that a murderer roam not at large, nor squander more of
the wealth that is by right my children's."

The spirit paused. To the extraordinary revelation the Colonel had
listened in rapt astonishment. He gazed at the presence, at the
firelight glimmering through it--through the very place where a human
heart would be--and he felt that he was indeed in the presence of a
supernatural being. He thought of the landlord's story; but while
earnestly desiring to sift the truth of the mystery, words refused to
come to his aid.

"Do you hesitate?" said the mournful spirit. "Will _you_ also flee, when
my orphan children cry for retribution?" Seeming to anticipate the will
of the Colonel, "I await your promise, senator," he said. "There is no
time to lose."

With a mighty effort, the South Carolinian said, "I promise. What would
you have me do?"

In the same terse, solemn manner, the ghostly visitor gave the real and
assumed names of the murderer, described his person and dress at the
present time, described a certain curious ring he was then wearing,
together with other distinguishing characteristics: all bei