[Illustration:  In the light of the lamp I saw the dead white face]

I just caught my breath, sharp like, and then turned and ran for the gate like a race-horse.  I ’ad left the key in the padlock, in case of anything happening, and I just gave it one turn, flung the wicket open and slammed it in the ghost’s face, and tumbled out into the road.

I ran slap into the arms of a young policeman wot was passing.  Nasty, short-tempered chap he was, but I don’t think I was more glad to see anybody in my life.  I hugged ’im till ’e nearly lost ’is breath, and then he sat me down on the kerb-stone and asked me wot I meant by it.

Wot with the excitement and the running I couldn’t speak at fust, and when I did he said I was trying to deceive ’im.

“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts,” he ses; “you’ve been drinking.”

“It came up out o’ the river and run arter me like the wind,” I ses.

“Why didn’t it catch you, then?” he ses, looking me up and down and all round about.  “Talk sense.”

He went up to the gate and peeped in, and, arter watching a moment, stepped inside and walked down the wharf, with me follering.  It was my dooty; besides, I didn’t like being left all alone by myself.

Twice we walked up and down and all over the wharf.  He flashed his lantern into all the dark corners, into empty barrels and boxes, and then he turned and flashed it right into my face and shook his ’ead at me.

“You’ve been having a bit of a lark with me,” he ses, “and for two pins I’d take you.  Mind, if you say a word about this to anybody, I will.”

He stalked off with his ’ead in the air, and left me all alone in charge of a wharf with a ghost on it.  I stayed outside in the street, of course, but every now and then I fancied I heard something moving about the other side of the gate, and once it was so distinct that I run along to the Bear’s Head and knocked ’em up and asked them for a little brandy, for illness.

I didn’t get it, of course; I didn’t expect to; but I ’ad a little conversation with the landlord from ’is bedroom-winder that did me more good than the brandy would ha’ done.  Once or twice I thought he would ’ave fallen out, and many a man has ’ad his licence taken away for less than a quarter of wot ’e said to me that night.  Arter he thought he ’ad finished and was going back to bed agin, I pointed’ out to ’im that he ’adn’t kissed me “good night,” and if it ‘adn’t ha’ been for ’is missis and two grown-up daughters and the potman I believe he’d ha’ talked to me till daylight.

’Ow I got through the rest of the night I don’t know.  It seemed to be twenty nights instead of one, but the day came at last, and when the hands came on at six o’clock they found the gate open and me on dooty same as usual.

I slept like a tired child when I got ’ome, and arter a steak and onions for dinner I sat down and lit my pipe and tried to think wot was to be done.  One thing I was quite certain about:  I wasn’t going to spend another night on that wharf alone.