“‘What do you want with me, man?’ she said.

“‘Why, ma’am,’ I said, ‘I’m young and simple, and I wur frightened wi’ a ghost t’other night, and I thought as how you, bein’ purty hancient, might assist me in findin’ things out about it.’

“With that, sur, she looked oal strange, and I thinks I’m on the right track, and I says again, ’That ’ere ghost wur well got up, mum.  I’ve played a ghost myself in a theatre, and I could never git up like you did the other night.’

“‘Me get up as a ghost!’ she screamed.  ‘Man, you are mad.’

“‘Not so mad,’ I says, ‘seein’ as ’ow I see you carry that ’ere ghost’s wardrobe, and put it in Mr. Blake’s room last night.’

“She went off without another word, yer honour, and the next thing I heard ’bout her was that she’d gone to London.”

“And why did you not tell Mr. Temple?”

“Well, Mr. Blake, he didn’t know anything ‘bout her evenin’ rambles wi’ that ‘ere hinfidel willain, and wasn’t acquainted wi’ the things that you and me hev talked about; besides, I thought as ’ow you wer the one that ought to know first of all.”

I thought long over Simon’s words, but could not understand them.  Why should Miss Staggles pose as a ghost, even at the instigation of Voltaire?  There could be nothing gained by it, and yet I was sure that it was not without meaning.  Somehow it was connected with Voltaire’s scheme; of that I was sure, but at the time my mind was too confused to see how.

So far, not one step had been taken to prove whether Kaffar was dead or alive, and although I knew nothing of a detective’s business, I did not like taking any one into my confidence.  I resolved to do all that was to be done myself.

In spite of everything, I spent a pleasant evening at Temple Hall.  We talked and laughed gaily, especially as Tom was preparing for his wedding with Miss Edith Gray, and when I told Mrs. Temple how Tom had popped the question on the landing at midnight, after the appearance of the famous hall ghost, the merriment knew no bounds.

It was after midnight when I retired to rest, but I could not sleep.  I could not help thinking about this great problem of my life.  How could I find Kaffar?  How could I tell whether he were alive or dead?  After tossing about a long time, I hit upon a plan of action, and then my mind had some little rest.

The next morning I bade good-bye to my friends, and started for the station.  When I arrived all was quiet.  Not a single passenger was there, while the two porters were lolling lazily around, enjoying the warmth of the bright May sun.

I asked to see the station-master; he was not at the station.  Then I made inquiries for the booking-clerk, who presently made his appearance.  I found that there was a train leaving about midnight, which travelled northward, one that had been running some years.

“Were you at the booking-office on the day after New Year’s Day?” I asked.