night; but nothing happened and no ghost was seen. The following night they watched again and unintentionally fell asleep. The next morning the whole party found to their consternation that they had been spirited away to a different part of the building.
The matter was reported to Reilly, who expressed his annoyance with what he termed their folly. He had often stayed late at the office, though he had never slept there, and he had seen no sign of the ghost. One evening, however, he had to remain later than usual. A ship was expected to arrive and it was necessary for him to await her anchorage in the Roads. He sat upstairs in the room belonging to the head of the firm, and a peon stayed below with the night-watchman. Reilly seated himself at the writing-table and beguiled the time with a book. On the table were two candlesticks with glass shades and the candles were lighted, the sun having long since sunk below the horizon.
He was deeply interested in his book and took no heed of how the hours were passing. Suddenly he felt impelled to raise his head and gaze into the room across the breadth of the table. There, just on the other side of it, stood the dead punkahman. It was impossible to mistake him. He wore the long fall old-fashioned coat and the blue-checked turban. Although the man had died before the employment of Reilly in the office, yet the strange visitor smiled at the Eurasian clerk as though he were greeting an old friend after a long absence. Reilly could not believe his eyes. He rose from his seat and, taking the two candles from the table, he advanced towards the spectre. Still the man smiled, regarding Reilly with a steady gaze until he was close upon him. Then in a moment the lights were extinguished and Reilly found himself alone in the dark. A sudden panic seized him. He called his peon, but there was no reply.
