"A case of melancholia, Bob," I said. Bob nodded. "Was no effort made, Sophy, to bring his memory back to him?"
"Nobody did nothink; he was let alone, the same as I was. I did want 'ard to talk to 'im, but I didn't dare open my lips, or I should have been found out. I do wish somethink could be done for 'im, that I do. Look 'ere, you're rich, ain't you?"
"Not exactly rich, Sophy, but I am not poor."
"Well, then. Crawley's to be bought."
"How do you know that?"
"I 'eerd Crawley say to 'isself, 'If I 'ad a 'underd pound I'd cut the cussed concern, and go to Amerikey.'"
"Ah! We'll think over it. A hundred pounds is a large sum. It's late, Sophy. I've nothing more to ask you to-night. Get to bed, like a good girl."
But Sophy began to tremble again; her thoughts reverted to M. Felix.
"I daren't go to the room Mr. Tucker took me to; Mr. Felix's ghost'd come agin. Let me sleep 'ere, please."
"There's no bed, my girl. I tell you what you shall do. There are two beds in the next room--see, this door opens into it--which Mr. Tucker and I were to occupy. We'll bring a mattress and some bedclothes in here, and we'll manage for the night; I'll lie on the sofa. You shall sleep in there, where no ghost can get to you. It would have to come through this room first."