Carpentaria slipped back into the car with a shiver, as it occurred to him that Ilam, had he so chosen, might have pushed him into three hundred and forty perpendicular feet of space. But Ilam had not moved.

“I’ve had enough,” said Carpentaria. “We’ll descend. Ring the bell.”

“No,” said Ilam. “I want to——”

“We’ll descend,” Carpentaria insisted.

“It’s about Juliette,” pleaded Ilam.

“We’ll descend,” said Carpentaria a third time. “Ring the bell.”

He sat down, took his revolver from his pocket, and put it ostentatiously on his knees.

Ilam sighed, and pushed the white disc that communicated with the engine-house, and a few moments later a vibration went through the wheel, and it resumed its revolution. The car came down on the side nearest the river, and its occupants had a superb view of the final items of the display of fireworks. Among them were two portraits, in living flame, of the twin gods of the City of Pleasure, and under each headpiece was the name of its subject: “Ilam,” “Carpentaria.” The cheers of the immense multitude greeted their ears. Then there was another sound, but it came from above instead of from below. Ilam shrank as if afraid.

“You needn’t be frightened,” said Carpentaria. “It isn’t the trumpet of the Day of Judgment, it’s only the beginning of a thunderstorm. It’s just come in nice time to soak everybody through on their way home.”

Rain spattered viciously on the windows.

When they reached the ground a strange sight met their eyes—the sight of seas and oceans of black, shining umbrellas, surging in waves from all directions towards the Central Way and the exits from the City, and as the umbrellas reached the covered footpaths of the Central Way they collapsed and showed human beings. And then, at all the exits from the City, all these umbrellas—and it was estimated that there were over a quarter of a million of them—sprang again into life, and hid their owners. The tempest was already at its height.

“Come with me,” said Carpentaria, as Ilam sought to leave him, when they quitted the Amusements Park.

“No,” said Ilam flatly.

They stood side by side in the open, heedless of the rain, while shelter in the shape of the sidewalks of the Central Way was within a few yards of them.

The searchlight from the balloon still swept about the grounds, but the fireworks were finished.

“You shall come with me and see a ghost,” insisted Carpentaria angrily and obstinately, “or I will make such a scandal in this place as will go far to ruin it. Let me tell you that I know a great deal more than you think. I am in a position, for example, to ask you, Ilam, whether you spend your nights in bed or wandering about the grounds carrying mysterious burdens.”

A group of visitors hurried past them.

“What do you mean?” muttered Ilam. “I—you must be going off your head.”

“Doubtless I’m a madman, eh? Well, come along with the madman.”

Ilam sighed. They passed into the Central Way, and had to fight for progress against the multitudes that crowded the footpaths. No one recognized them.

“I wish we could understand each other,” said Ilam.

“We shall, rest assured of that,” returned Carpentaria. “In quite a few minutes we shall understand each other, or I am mistaken, and it may be you that will have to leave this City—and with considerably less than fifty thousand a year, my friend.” He pictured the moment when he should confront Ilam with the man whose corpse Ilam had buried. Vistas opened out before him. He saw the tables completely turned; he saw himself sole master of the City, and the wielder of such power over Ilam as would enforce obedience to his wishes. Then there would be no more insulting requests to abandon his music, no more ridiculous suggestions, and no fear of foolishness on the part of Juliette. It astonished him that he had not realized before the enormous latent power which his knowledge of Saturday night gave him over Ilam.

“You will come with me to my house,” he said.

“Who is there?” asked Ilam wearily.

“Dr. Rivers—and the ghost.”

“What is all this nonsense about a ghost?”

“You shall see him first, and then, when you have seen him—before he has seen you—you shall tell me whether or not you would like to have a chat with him. It is a ghost warranted to talk.”

Ilam said nothing. He was naturally at a complete loss.

They entered the bungalow by means of Carpentaria’s latchkey, and they mounted to the first-floor, and they went into the study. The door of the bedroom was shut. Carpentaria led Ilam out on to the balcony of the study window, from which it was not difficult, even for Ilam, to climb into the balcony of the bedroom.

“Now, you shall look into my bedroom,” said Carpentaria.

And he himself looked first. It may be said that he was astounded.

The room was lighted. There were no signs of Mr. Jetsam, but two chairs had been overturned, and young Rivers lay prone on the floor, his eyes shut, and some blood flowing from a wound in his forehead.

Carpentaria sprang into the room, and, strange to say, Ilam followed him. The fact was that Ilam did really for the moment believe Carpentaria to be mad, and the bedroom to be the scene of some maniacal crime. .

Just then Rivers came to his senses.

“That you, Mr. Carpentaria?” he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes. What’s happened? Where’s Jetsam, as he calls himself? You’re not seriously hurt, are you?”

At the name of Jetsam, Ilam caught his breath and took hold of a bedpost.

“Jetsam?” he repeated.

“You evidently recognize the name of my ghost,” said Carpentaria, “though he isn’t here.”

“He bashed me on the head with a chair,” said the doctor, sitting up and putting a handkerchief to his head, “and I suppose I must have—— It can’t be more than a minute or two since——”

“But what was he doing? Where’s he gone?” inquired Carpentaria impatiently.

“He recovered consciousness quite quickly,” answered Rivers, “and I gave him something to drink; then he asked me about Mrs. Ilam, and I told him she lived with Mr. Ilam here, and he grew very excited, and said he must go to her at once. I said he couldn’t; I said you wouldn’t allow that, and he pretended to agree; but it was only a pretence. He began to talk about other things, and then, all of a sudden, he sprang at me, and that’s as much as I remember.”

Without a word Carpentaria ran out downstairs and into the avenue. The door of Ilam’s house stood wide open. He entered. In the hall he perceived that the door of the drawing-room was also wide open, and he entered the drawing-room..There was no light in the room save that of a match, and the match was held by Mr. Jetsam. Mr. Jetsam stood staring at Mrs. Ilam, and Mrs. Ilam sat motionless in her chair, apparently trying to articulate and not succeeding. An appalling fear shone in her eyes. No sound could be heard except the rattling of the rain on the French window.

Mr. Jetsam turned, and in the same second he dropped the match. The room was in darkness. Then followed a crash of glass and splintering of wood, and then a heavy fall in the apartment itself. With some trouble, Carpentaria found the electric switch and turned on the light. Mrs. Ilam’s lips were still trembling in a vain effort to speak. Her son lay stretched and whimpering at her feet. Mr. Jetsam had vanished. The window was in ruins.

Dr. Rivers appeared. He had bandaged his forehead.

“She is paralysed!” said the doctor, when he had examined Mrs. Ilam. “She will never again have the use of her limbs or her organs of speech. She will be able to see and to hear, that’s all.”