“You know something more, Mr. Sutherland.”
Hugh hesitated again, but only for a moment.
“Well, then,” he said, “I have seen the spectre myself, walking in her white grave-clothes, in the Ghost’s Avenue—ha! ha!”
Funkelstein looked anxious.
“Were you frightened?” said he.
“Frightened!” repeated Hugh, in a tone of the greatest contempt. “I am of Don Juan’s opinion with regard to such gentry.”
“What is that?”
“‘That soul and body, on the whole,
Are odds against a disembodied soul.’”
“Bravo!” cried the count. “You despise all these tales about Lady Euphrasia, wandering about the house with a death-candle in her hand, looking everywhere about as if she had lost something, and couldn’t find it?”
“Pooh! pooh! I wish I could meet her!”