THE PARTICULARS OF A SWINDLE. "This hotel haunted?" gasped the proprietor. "Sir, you are mistaken. Such a thing is impossible." "It is true," insisted Mr. Wilberforce Chaster. "I shall not stay here another night." "What makes you think it is haunted?" "There is a ghost in my room." "Oh!" shrieked a maid who had come on the scene. "A ghost! I shall not stay either!" "What kind of a ghost?" demanded Andrew Mallison. "A--er--a skeleton--and some skulls! I saw them with my own eyes," went on the victim. "Come and see them for yourself." "This is nonsense," said the hotel proprietor. "I will go and convince you that you are mistaken." He led the way and half a dozen followed, including Wilberforce Chaster, who kept well to the rear. Just as the party reached the door of the apartment Joe and the bell boy came up. Without hesitation Andrew Mallison threw open the door of the room and looked inside. Of course he saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Where is your ghost?" he demanded. "I see nothing of it." "Don't--don't you see--er--a skeleton?" demanded the man who had been victimized. "I do not." Trembling in every limb Wilberforce Chaster came forward and peered into the room. "Well?" demanded the hotel proprietor, after a pause. "I--I certainly saw them." "Then where are they now?" "I--I don't know." By this time others were crowding into the apartment. All gazed around,