And then he pointed to a tree, and Sergeant Abiboo, who walked behind him, flung the rope he carried, so deftly that the noose slipped down over the smooth branch almost to the level of N'kema's neck.

* * *

"Ghosts — phew!" Donald wiped his brow. "Did you see . . . just as this bird was going to strike . . . something stopped him . . . that beats everything."

Bones coughed. He had seen the new silencers on the Houssas' rifles.

"We've got a pretty bright brand of bogies, dear old thing," he said.

Murdock shook his head.

"I've got a new slant on this spiritualistic business. There was something there — I'll swear it . . . . Gosh! it was more awful than being carved up!"

"A common phenomenon, dear old Atlantist," murmured Bones.

"I'm going to cable Jane and say I'm strong for spiritualism if you get the right brand."

As it happened, it was unnecessary. The Eurasian operator handed him a cablegram as he arrived at headquarters:

You are right. Spooks are bunk. Experts found professor's fingermarks on tin trumpet. Come home. JANE.

Donald shook his head.

"I've got to convince that girl," he said.

.