“Well, it’s like this⁠ ⁠… only the ghost doesn’t like me to talk about his business.”

“Indeed?” sneered Richard.

“But this is a matter that concerns myself alone.⁠ ⁠… Well, it was in Box Five one evening, I found a letter addressed to myself, a sort of note written in red ink. I needn’t read the letter to you, sir; I know it by heart, and I shall never forget it if I live to be a hundred!”

And Mme. Giry, drawing herself up, recited the letter with touching eloquence: