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Updated: May 23, 2025
As he spoke the young man still holding to his cloak he cast him off, and struck him: then, wildly hurried out into the night air where the wind was blowing, the snow falling, the cloud-drift sweeping on, the moon dimly shining; and where, blowing in the wind, falling with the snow, drifting with the clouds, shining in the moonlight, and heavily looming in the darkness, were the Phantom's words, "The gift that I have given, you shall give again, go where you will!"
"Rawlins is not on board," the skipper said, as they came close. "I told him to send off the instant they got any news whatever. That is Simpson in the stern." "Well, Simpson, what news?" Frank asked as she rowed alongside. "Well, sir, we have found out as how all the Phantom's crew are ashore. Some of the chaps told us that they came back a fortnight ago, the crew having been paid off.
To our disappointment, likewise, there came an invitation from the Eastwoods for the evening of the 27th of December, the second of the recurring days of the phantom's appearance. My father could not, and my mother would not go, but they so much wanted my brothers and sister to accept it that it could not well be declined.
Hitherto I have been proud of the good behaviour of my crew, and I should be sorry indeed to hear that there was any row ashore between you and the Phantom's men. They at least have nothing to boast of. They have won the Cup, but we have won the honour. We have shown ourselves the better yacht, and should have beaten them by something like a mile, if it had not been for this accident.
I felt sure that you would suspect who it was, but I could not see how you would connect the two together." "You see, I did not guess it at first," he replied. "I felt sure that it was Carthew from the first minute when I found that you had not landed, and it was just the luck of finding out that the Phantom's crew had returned, and that they had been paid off at Ostend, that put me on the track.
She was a lady of exalted birth, a lady of the upper aristocracy, who could, if she would, bring both a social and official pressure upon the General: and it might be in motion now behind the scenes, Clotilde laid hold of her phantom baroness, almost happy under the phantom's whisper that she need not despair.
For an instant her face, white as a phantom's, appeared pressed rigidly against the heavy plate-glass, her eyes staring with a horrible fascination back into the room I even imagined at us. Perhaps, as it was evident that Tournelli was not with her, she fancied he was still here; perhaps she had mistaken Tom for him!
Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost. Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in! "I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!"
What was more, he could not understand such a queer assumption on the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a ghost? Watson was natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda. This was scarcely his idea of a phantom's life. Most certainly, the two of them were men, nothing else; if one was a wraith, so was the other. But how to account for it? Again he thought of Rhamda Avec.
And, as she stood now by the sunny window, idly intent on her vision, without warning the face of Shiela Cardross glimmered through the dream, growing clearer, distinct in every curve and tint of its exquisite perfection; and she stared at the mental vision, evoking it with all the imagination of her inner consciousness, unquiet yet curious, striving to look into the phantom's eyes clear, direct eyes which she remembered; and a thrill of foreboding touched her, lest the boy she loved might find in the sweetness of these clear eyes a peril not lightly overcome.
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